MASTER 

NEGATIVE 

NO. 91-80407 


MICROFILMED  1991 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES/NEW  YORK 


as  part  of  the 
"Foundations  of  Western  Civilization  Preservation  Project" 


Funded  by  the 
NATIONAL  ENDOWMENT  FOR  THE  HUMANITIES 


Reproductions  may  not  be  made  without  pemiission  from 

Columbia  University  Library 


COPYRIGHT  STATEMENT 

The  copyright  law  of  the  United  States  --  Title  17,  United 
States  Code  -  concerns  the  making  of  photocopies  or  other 
reproductions  of  copyrighted  material . . . 

Columbia  University  Library  reserves  the  right  to  refuse  to 
accept  a  copy  order  if,  in  its  judgement,  fulfillment  of  the  order 
would  involve  violation  of  the  copyright  law. 


AUTHOR: 


TAYLOR,  ISAAC 


TITLE: 


FANATICISM 


PLA  CE : 


NEW  YORK 


DATE: 


1834 


COLUMBIA  UNIVIiRSITY  Ln5KAR!HS 
i'RESERVATlON  DHPARiMENr 

JlUlIJOCRAPmC  MICRQI  ORM  I  A R C li  I 


Master  Negative  # 


Restrictions  on  Use 


Original  Material  as  Filmed  -  Existing  Bibliographic  Record 


248 
T2 


I    1 


[Taylor.  IsaaC:  1787-18G5. 

Fauaticism.  By  the  author  of  Natural  history  of  en- 
thusiasm. New- York,  J.  Leavitt;  Boston,  Crocker  Sz 
lirewster,  IH.'U. 

.2  p.  1.,  368  p.    20^^". 
iinother  copy  in  i-ark  Henjamin.      18.'^4, 


I.    Title. 

n):)!   ^ -■■'■■■■        ^    ij 

Library  of  Congress 


5-26724 


TECHNICAL  MICROFORM  DATA 

FILM      SIZE: 0^__rYi)v_v  R!:DL'( nON      RAFIO-  |\v- 

IMAGE  FLACEMFNT;    lA     Q^     IB      IIB  __    

DATE      FILMED: i_zJ_Oj:jAi_ INITIALS  tz,l2_ 

HLMED  BY:    RESEARCH  PUBLICATIONS.  INC   WOOnBRrDGE7cT 


JJ 


AUM 


for  Infonnalfoii  and  Image  Managamant 

1100  Wayne  Avenue,  Suite  1100 
Silver  Spring,  Maryland  20910 

301/587-8202 


Centimeter 

12         3        4 


8         9        10       11        12       13       14       15    mm 

|...i...|........|........|.....    !    ,..j...,   \    .    ! 


Inches 


1.0 


.1 


1.25 


1   1    1    1    1       III 

3 

1^      2.8 

2.5 

y^ 

■  6.3 

^^      nil  3  6 

2.2 

■  8.0 

IS. 
•i     u 

2.0 

1.8 

1.4 

1.6 

MnNUFPCTURED  TO  flllM  STPNORRDS 
BY  APPLIED  IMAGE,  INC. 


,-^i-^. 


Irfc 

i,       .HI 


**  ^  *' 


'?•*■ 


LIBRARY 


i  ':i 

t. 


;c  a 


I,' 


'!•  • 


"wwisuwra 


COLCOIjI.. 


F  AN  AfT-i  C  I  S  jL.  * 

V    N.YORU. 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF 


NATURAL    HISTORY    OF   ENTHUSIASM. 


i/ 


at    fJCiTct   vuhvq   $'iAcrrpd<poti 


■Trig    '^^X>^5   X^^ycrdrtpoti. 


NEW-YORK: 

PUBLISHED  BY  JONATHAN  LEAVITT,  181  BROADWAY. 

BOSTON: 

CROCKER  <fc  BREWSTER,  47  WASHINGTON-STREET. 

1834 


t 


(^ 


r;h 


NEW-YORK: 

PRINTED  BY  R.  db  G.  S.  WOOD,  2A   PEARL-STREET. 


%.^ 


PREFACE. 


Strict  propriety  seldom  allows  an  author  to  obtrude  upon  the  public 
the  circumstances  that  may  have  attended  and  controlled  his  literary 
labours.  \  ct  the  rule  may  give  way  to  special  reasons  ;  and  in  the 
present  instance  the  reader  is  requested  courteously  to  admit  an 
exception.  "^  , 

More  than  twelve  years  ago  the  Author  projected  a  work  which 
should  at  one  view  exhibit  the  several  principal  forms  of  spurious  or 
corrupted  religion.  But  discouraged  by  the  magnitude  and  difficulty 
of  such  a  task,  he  after  a  while,  yet  not  without  much  reluctance, 
abandoned  the  undertaking.  Nevertheless  the  subject  continually 
pressed  upon  his  mind.  At  length  he  selected  a  single  portion  of  the 
general  theme  and  adventured-NATURAL  History  of  Enthusiasm. 

h^mboidened  to  proceed,  the  Author  almost  immediately  entered 
upon  the  nearly  connected  and  sequent  subject  which  fills  the  present 
volume.  Yet  fearing  lest,  by  an  unskilful  or  unadvised  treatment  of 
certajn  arduous  matters  which  it  involves,  he  might  create  embar- 
rassment where  most  he  desired  to  do  good,  Be  laid  aside  his 
materials. 

But  in  the  interval,  by  extending  his  researches  concernine-  the  rise 
and  progress  of  the  fatal  errors  that  have  obscured  our  holy  rehgion 
the  Author  greatly  enhanced  his  wish  to  achieve  his  first  purpose! 
ae  therefore  resumed  Fanaticism;  which  is  now  offered  to  the 
candour  of  the  Reader.  He  next  proposes,  in  advancing  towards 
the  completion  of  his  original  design,  to  take  in  hand  Superstition, 
and  Its  attendant  Credulity. 

A  natural  transition  leads  from  Superstition  and  Credulity  to 
Spibitual  Despotism.  The  principal  perversions  of  Religion  having 
thus  been  reviewed,  it  would  be  proper  to  describe  that  Corruptioh 
OF  Morals  which,  in  different  modes,  has  resulted  from  the  over- 
throvv  of  genuine  piety.  There  would  then  only  remain  to  be 
considered  Scepticism,  or  Philosophic  Irreligion ;  and  the  series  will 
embrace  all  that  the  Author  deems  indispensable  to  the  undertakintT 
he  has  so  long  meditated.  ® 


t  .. 


:'»n 


CONTENTS. 


(/ 


m't 


FANATICISM. 


SECTION  I. 

Motives  of  the  Work 


•  » 


JPage 
1 


SECTION  II. 
The  Meaning  of  Terras— Rise  of  the  Malign  Emotions  .      17 

SECTION  III. 
Alliance  of  the  Malign  Emotions  with  the  Imagination    .        .      33 

•  SECTION  IV. 


Fanaticism  the  Offspring  of  Enthusiasm;   or  Combination 
of  the   xMaUga  Emotions   with  Spurious    Religious 


Sentiments 


SECTION  V. 


Fanaticism  of  the  Scourge 


SECTION  VI. 


Fanaticism  of  the  Brand 


• 


SECTION  VU. 


Fanaticism  of  the  Banner 


...» 


SECTION  VIII. 


Fanaticism  of  the  Symbol 

SECTION  IX. 

The  Religion  of  the  Bible  not  Fanatical  (The  Old  Testa- 
ment)   

SECTION  X. 

The  ReUgion  of  the  Bible  not  Fanatical  (The  New  Testa- 
ment)      


51 


63 


104 


.       155 


.       215 


269 


310 


SECTION  I. 


MOTIVES   OP   THE   WORK. 

The  maladies  of  the  mind  are  not  to  be  healed  any 
,.-^iore  than  those  of  the  body  unless  by  a  friendly  hand. 
But  through  a  smgular  infelicity  it  too  often  happens 
tMt  these  evils,  deep  as  they  are,  and  difficult  of  cure, 
ta!l  under  a  treatment  that  is  hostile  and  mahffn,  or 
unat  IS  worse,  frivolous.     Especially  does  this  disad-' 
vantage  attach  to  that  peculiar  class  of  mental  disor- 
ders which,  as  they  are  more  profound  in  their  origin 
than  any  other,  and  more  liable  to  extreme  aggra- 
vation, demand  in  whoever  would  relieve  them,  not 
only  the  requisite  skill,  but  the  very  purest  intentJong. 
V  itiated  religious  sentiments  have  too  much  con- 
nexion with  the  principles  of  our  physical  constitution 
to  be  in  every  case  effectively  amended  by  methods 
that  are  merely  theological ;  and  yet,  drawing  their 
strength  as  they  do  from  great  truths  with  which  the 
physiologist  has  ordinarily  little  or  no  personal  acquaint- 
ance, and  which  perhaps    he  holds  in  contempt,  he  is 
likely  to  err,  as  well  in  theory  as  in  practice,  when  be 
takes  them  in  hand.     How  profound  soever  or  exact 
may  be  his  knowledge  of  human  nature,  whether  as 
matter  of  science  or  as  matter  of  observation,  the 

2 


3  >^' 


FANATICISM. 


MOTIVES   OP  THE   WORK. 


»j 


sulDJect,  in  these  instances,  lies  beyond  his  range  !— 
himself  neither  religious  nor  even  superstitious,  he 
has  no  sympathy  with  the  deep  movements  of  the  soul 
in  its  relation  to  the  Infinite  and  Invisible  Being; — he 
has  no  clue  therefore  to  the  secret  he  is  in  search  of. 
The  misapprehensions  of  the  frigid  philosopher  are 
vastly  increased  if  it  should  happen  that,  in  reference 
to  religion,  his  feelings  are  petulant  and  acrimonious. 
Poor  preparation  truly  for  a  task  of  such  peculiar 
difficulty  to  be  at  once  ignorant  in  the  chief  article  of 
the  case,  and  hurried  on  by  the  motives  that  attend  a 
caustic  levity  of  temper  ! 

It  would  indeed  be  difficult  to  furnish  a  satisfactory 
reason  either  for  the  asperity  or  for  the  levity  with 
which  persons  of  a  certain  class  allow  themselves  to 
speak  of  grave  perversions  of  the  religious  sentiment ; 
for  if  such  vices  of  the  spirit  be  regarded  as  corruptions 
of  the  most  momentous  of  all  truths,  then  surely  a  due 
affection  for  our  fellow-men,  on  the  one  hand,  and  a 
proper  reverence  towards  Heaven  on  the  other,  alike 
demand  from  reasonable  persons  as  well  tenderness 
V  as  awe,  in  approaching  a  subject  so  fraught  with  fatal 
mischiefs.  Or  even  if  Religion  be  deemed  by  these 
sarcastic  reprovers  altogether  an  illusion,  or  an  invet- 
erate prejudice,  infesting  our  luckless  nature,  not  the 
more,  even  in  that  case,  can  rancour  or  levity  become 
a  wise  and  benevolent  mind,  seeing  that  these  same 
powerful  sentiments  whether  true  or  false,  do  so  deeply 
affect  the  welfare  of  the  human  family. 

Or  to  look  at  the  subject  on  another  side,  it  may 
fairly  be  asked  why  the  religious  passions  might  not 
claim  from  supercilious  wits  a  measure  of  that  lenity 
(if  not  indulgence)  which  is  readily  afforded  to  vices 
of  another  sort.  If  Pride  abhorrent  as  it  is,  and  if 
Ambition,  with  both  hands  dyed  in  blood,  and  if  tlie 
lust  of  wealth  making  the  weak  its  prey,  and  if  sensual 
desires,  devoid  of  pity,  are  all  to  be  gently  handled, 
and  all  in  turn  find  patrons  among  Sages — why  might 
not  also  Fanaticism?    whv  misrht  not  Enthusiasm? 


why  npt  Superstition?  It  would  be  hard  to  prove 
that  the  deluded  religionist,  even  when  virulent  in  an 
extreme  degree,  or  when  most  absurd,  is  practically 
a  more  mischievous  person  than  for  instance,  the  adul- 
terous despoiler  of  domestic  peace,  or  than  the  rapa- 
cious dealer  in  human  souls  and  bodies.  Let  it  be 
true  that  the  Hypocrite  is  an  odious  being ;— yes,  but 
is  not  the  Oppressor  also  detestable  1  And  what  has 
become  of  the  philosophic  impartiality  of  the  Sage 
(self-styled)  who  will  spend  his  jovial  hours  at  the 
table  of  the  Cruel  or  the  Debauched,  while  all  he  can 
bestow  upon  the  victims  of  religious  extravagance,  is 
the  bitterness  of  his  contempt?  There  is  a  manifest 
mconsistency  here  of  which  surely  those  should  be 
able  to  give  a  good  account  who,  themselves,  are  far 
too  wise  ^k¥m  lo  be  religious  ! 
^  We  leave  this  difficulty  in  the  hands  of  the  parties 
it  may  concern,  and  proceed  to  say  that  emotions 
altogether  strange  to  frigid  and  sardonic  tempers  must 
have  come  within  the  experience  of  whoever  would 
truly  comprehend  the  malady  of  the  fanatic  or  the 
enthusiast ;  and  much  more  so,  if  he  is  attempting  to 

restore  the  disordered  spirit  to  soundness  of  health. 

Mere  intellectualists,  as  well  as  men  of  pleasure,  know 
just  so  much  of  human  nature  as  their  own  frivolous 
sentiments  may  serve  to  give  them  a  sense  of :  all 
that  lies  deeper  than  these  slender  feelings,  or  that 
stretches  beyond  this  limited  range,  is  to  them  a  riddle 
and  a  mockery.  But  it  may  happen  that  a  mind 
natively  sound,  and  one  now  governed  by  the  firmest 
principles,  has  in  an  early  stage,  or  in  some  short  era 
of  its  course,  so  far  yielded  lo  the  influence  of  irregu- 
lar or  vehement  sentiments  as  to  give  it  ever  after  a 
sympathy,  even  with  the  most  extreme  cases  of  the 
same  order;  so  that,  by  the  combined  aid  of  personal 
experience  and  observation,  the  profound  abyss  where- 
in exorbitant  religious  ideas  take  their  course  may 
successfully  be  explored ; — nor  merely  explored,  but 
^  its  fearful  contents  brought  forth  and  described,  and 


FANATICISM. 


MOTIVES   OF   THE    WORK. 


this  too  in  the  spirit  of  humanity,  or  with  the  feeling 
of  one  who,  far  from  affecting  to  look  down  as  from 
"h  pinnacle  upon  the  follies  of  his  fellow-men,  speaks 
in  kindness  of  their  errors,  as  being  himself  liable  to- 
every  infirmity  that  besets  the  human  heart  and  under- 
standing. 

Never  in  fact,  have  we  more  urgent  need  of  a 
settled  principle  of  philanthropy  than  when  we  set 
foot  upon  the  ground  of  religious  delusion.  Nowhere, 
so  much  as  there,  is  it  necessary  to  be  resolute  in  our 
good-will  to  man,  and  fixed  in  our  respect  for  him  too, 
even  while  the  strictness  of  important  principles  is  not 
at  all  relaxed.  Far  more  easy  is  it  to  be  contemptu- 
ously bland,  than  kind  and  firm  on  occasions  of  this 
sort.  We  have  only  to  abandon  our  concern  for  seri- 
ous truths,  and  then  may  be  indulgent  to  the  worst 
enormities. — But  this  were  a  cruel  charity,  and  a  farce 
too ;  and  we  must  seek  a  much  surer  foundation  for 
that  love  which  is  to  be  the  consort  of  knowledge. 

A  personal  consciousness  of  the  readiness  with 
which  even  the  most  egregious  or  dangerous  perver- 
sions of  feeling  at  first  recommend  themselves  to  the 
human  mind,  and  soon  gain  sovereign  control  over  it, 
is  needed  to  place  us  in  the  position  we  ought  to 
occupy  whenever  such  evils  are  to  be  made  the  subject 
of  animadversion.  And  if,  with  the  light  of  Christi- 
anity full  around  us,  and  with  the  advantages  of  gene- 
ral intelligence  on  our  side,  we  yet  cannot  boast  of 
having  enjoyed  an  entire  exemption  from  false  or  cul- 
pable religious  emotions,  what  sentiment  but  pity 
should  be  harboured  when  we  come  to  think  of  those 
who,  born  beneath  a  malignant  star,  have  walked  by 
no  other  light  than  the  lurid  glare  of  portentous  super- 
stitions ? — A  check  must  even  be  put  to  those  strong 
and  involuntary  emotions  of  indignation  with  which 
we  contemplate  the  hateful  course  of  the  spiritual  des- 
pot and  persecutor. — Outlaw  of  humanity,  and  off- 
spring, as  he  seems,  of  infernals,  he  may  command 
also  a  measure  of  indulgence  as  the  child  of  some  false 


) 


i 


system  which,  by  a  slow  accumulation  of  noxious  qual- 
ities, has  grown  to  be  far  more  malign  than  its  authors 
would  have  made  it.  Besides ;  there  may  revolve 
within  the  abyss  of  the  human  heart  (as  history  com- 
pels us  to  admit)  a  world  of  wondrous  inconsis- 
tencies ;  and  especially  so  when  religious  infatuations 
come  in  to  trouble  it.  How  often  has  there  been  seen 
upon  the  stage  of  human  afiairs  beings — must  we  call 
them  men  ?  who,  with  hands  sodden  in  blood — blood 
of  their  brethren,  have  challenged  to  themselves,  and 
on  no  slendergrounds,  the  praise  of  a  species  of  virtue 
and  greatness  of  soul ! 

The  very  same  spirit  of  kindness  which  should  rule 
us  in  the  performance  of  a  task  such  as  the  one  now 
in  hand,  must  also  furnish  the  necessary  motive  for  the 
arduous  undertaking.  Is  it  a  matter  of  curious  des- 
cription only,  or  of  entertainment,  or  even  with  the 
more  worthy,  though  secondary  purpose  of  philoso- 
phical inquiry,  that  we  are  to  pass  over  the  ground  of 
religious  extravagance  ?  v  Any  such  intention  would 
be  found  to  lack  impulse  enough  for  the  labour.  There 
are  however  at  hand  motives  of  an  incomparably 
higher  order,  and  of  far  greater  force,  and  these  (or 
some  of  them  at  least)  have  a  peculiar  urgency  in  re- 
ference to  the  present  moment.  To  these  motives  too 
much  importance  cannot  be  attributed ;  and  it  will  be 
well  that  we  should  here  distinctly  bring  them  to 
view. 

All  devout  minds  are  now  intent  upon  the  hope  of 
the  overthrow  of  old  superstitions,  and  of  the  universal 
spread  of  the  Gospel.  But  the  spread  of  the  Gospel, 
as  we  are  warranted  to  believe,  implies  and  demands 
its  clear  separation  from  all  those  false  sentiments  and 
exaggerated  or  mischievous  modes  of  feeling  which 
heretofore,  and  so  often,  have  embarrassed  its  course. 
In  a  word  Christianity  must  free  itself  from  all  en- 
tanglement with  malignant  or  exorbitant  passions,  if 
it  would  break  over  its  present  boundaries.  Is  the 
world  to  be  converted — are  the  nations  to  be  brought 

2* 


Ski 


.1 


« 


FANATICISM. 


home  to  God  ?  Yes ; — but  this  supposes  that  the 
Christian  body  should  awake  from  every  illusion,  and 
rid  itself  of  every  disgrace. 

True  indeed  it  is,  and  lamentable,  that  the  families 
of  man  have  remained  age  after  age  the  victims  of 
error:  yet  this  has  not  happened  because  there  has 
not  been  extant  in  every  age,  somewhere,  a  repository 
of  truth,  and  an  Instrument,  or  means  of  instruction. 
If  even  now  superstition  and  impiety  share  between 
them  the  empire  of  almost  all  the  world,  it  is  not  be- 
cause nothing  better  comes  within  the  reach  of  the 
human  mind,  or  because  nothing  more  benign  is  pre- 
sented to  its  choice.  No — for  absolute  Truth,  Truth 
from  heaven,  has  long  sojourned  on  earth,  and  is  to  be 
conversed  with.  Why  then  do  the  people  still  sit  in 
darkness? — The  question  may  painfully  perplex  us, 
yet  should  never  be  dismissed.  Rather  a  genuine  and 
intelligent  compassion  for  our  fellow-men  will  lead  us 
to  prosecute  with  intense  zeal  any  inquiry  which  may 
issue  in  the  purification  of  the  means  of  salvation  con- 
fided to  our  care.  If  the  Gospel  does  not  (as  we 
might  have  expected,  and  must  always  desire)  prevail 
and  run  from  land  to  land — the  anxious  question  recurs 
— what  arrests  its  progress  ? 

Besides  employing  ourselves  then  in  all  eligible 
modes  for  propagating  the  faith,  every  one  competent 
to  the  task,  should  institute  a  scrutiny,  at  home  and 
abroad,  in  quest  as  well  of  open  hinderances  to  the 
progress  of  the  Gospel,  as  of  the  more  latent  or  ob- 
scure causes  of  obstruction.  The  great  work  in  an 
age  of  Missions,  should  it  be  any  thing  else  than  the 
re-inauguration  of  Christianity  among  ourselves  ?  If 
religion — religion  we  mean,  not  as  found  on  parch- 
ments, or  in  creeds,  but  in  the  bosoms  of  men,  were 
indeed  what  once  it  was,  it  would  doubtless  spread,  as 
once  it  did,  from  heart  to  heart,  and  from  city  to  city, 
and  from  shore  to  shore.  The  special  reason  therefore 
— or  the  URGENT  reason,  why  we  should  now  dismiss 
from  our  own  bosoms  every  taint  of  superstition,  and 


MOTIVES    op   THE    WORK. 


every  residue  of  unbelief,  as  well  as  whatever  is  fanat- 
ical, factious,  or  uncharitable,  is  this — that  the  world 
— even  the  deluded  millions  of  our  brethren,  may  at 
length  receive  the  blessings  of  the  Gospel. 

Although  we  were  looking  no  further  than  to  the 
personal  welfare  of  individuals,  it  would  always  seem 
in  the  highest  degree  desirable  that  whoever  believes 
the  Gospel  should  cast  off  infirmities  of  judgment — 
preposterous  suppositions — idle  and  debilitating  fears, 
and  especially  should  come  free  from  the  taint  of 
malign  sentiments.  But  after  we  have  so  thought  of 
the  individual,  must  we  not  give  a  renewed  attention 
to  the  influence  he  may  exert  over  others  ?  No  one 
"liveth  to  himself" — An  efficacy,  vital  or  mortal, 
emanates  from  the  person  of  every  professor  of  the 
Gospel. — Every  man  calling  himself  (in  a  special 
sense)  a  Christian,  either  saves  or  destroys  those 
around  him  : — Such  is  the  rule  of  the  dispensation 
under  which  we  have  to  act.  It  pleases  not  the  Divine 
Power  (very  rare  cases  excepted)  to  operate  inde- 
pendently of  that  living  and  rational  agency  to  which 
even  the  scheme  of  human  redemption  was  made  to 
conform  itself  The  Saviour  of  men  "  became  flesh,* 
and  dwelt  among  us,"  because  no  violence  could  be 
done,  even  on  the  most  urgent  and  singular  of  all 
occasions,  to  the  established  principles  of  the  moral 
system. — The  harmony  of  the  intellectual  world,  in 
the  constitution  of  which  the  Divine  Wisdom  is  so 
signally  displayed,  must  not  be  disturbed,  notwith- 
standing that  the  Eternal  Majesty  himself  was  coming 
to  the  rescue  of  the  lost ;  and  in  this  illustrious  in- 
stance we  have  a  proof,  applicable  to  every  imaginable 
case,  and  always  sufficient  to  convince  us — That  the 
saving  mercy  of  God  to  man  moves  only  along  the 
line  of  rational  and  moral  agency ; — that  if  a  sinner  is 
to  be  "  converted  from  the  error  of  his  way,''  it  must 
be  by  the  word  or  personal  influence  of  one  like  him- 
self Was  it  not  (other  purposes  being  granted)  to 
give  sanction  to  this  very  mode  of  procedure,  that  He 
who  "  was  rich"  in  the  fulness  of  divine  perfections. 


1 1 

I    ! 


l\ 


i' 


FANATICISM. 


MOTIVES    OP   THE    WORK. 


9 


**  became  poor,"  that  we,  through  the  poverty  of  his 
human  nature,  "  might  be  made  rich  ? "  Vain  sup- 
position then  that  God,  who  would  not  at  first  save  the 
world  at  the  cost,  or  to  the  damage  of  the  settled 
maxims  of  his  government,  shall  in  after  instances 
waive  them  ;  or  put  contempt  in  private  cases  upon  that 
to  which  he  attributed  the  highest  importance  on  the 
most  notable  of  all  occasions  ! 

Christianity,  such  as  it  actually  exists  in  the  bosoms 
of  those  who  entertain  it,  is  the  Instrument  of  God's 
mercy  to  the  world  : — and  the  Effect  in  every  age  will 
be  as  is  the  Instrument.  In  these  times  we  have  not 
quite  lost  sight  of  this  great  principle ;  much  less  do 
we  deny  it : — and  yet  every  day  we  give  more 
attention  to  other  truths,  than  to  this.  We  honour 
the  capital  doctrine  of  the  agency  of  the  Spirit  of 
Grace  in  the  conversion  of  men  ;  and  then  we  turn  to 
proximate  and  visible  means,  and  pay  due  regard  to 
all  the  ordinary  instruments  of  instruction.  And  thus 
having  rendered  homage  in  just  proportion,  to  the 
Divine  Power  and  sovereignty  on  the  one  hand,  and 
to  human  industry  on  the  other,  we  think  too  little  of 
that  Middle  Truth  which,  nevertheless,  to  ourselves  is 
the  most  significant  of  the  three,  namely — That  the 
moral  and  intelligent  instrumentality  from  the  which 
the  Sovereign  Grace  refuses  to  sever  itself,  is  nothing 
else  than  the  vital  force  which  animates  each  single 
believer. 

Does  not  the  Omnipresent  Spirit,  rich  in  power  to 
renovate  human  hearts,  even  now  brood  over  the 
populous  plains  and  crowded  cities  of  India  and  of 
China,  as  well  as  over  the  cities  and  plains  of  England? 
Is  not  God — even  our  God,  locally  present  among  the 
dense  myriads  that  tread  the  precincts  of  idol  worship? 
*— Is  He  not  ever,  and  in  all  places  at  hand ;  and 
wherever  at  hand,  able  also  to  save  ?  Yes,  but  alas  1 
the  moral  and  rational  instrumentality  is  not  present  in 
those  dark  places  ;  and  the  immutable  law  of  the 
spiritual  world  forbids  that,  apart  from  this  system  of 
means,  the  souls  of  men  should  be  rescued* 


Nor  is  the  bare  presence  of  the  moral  and  rational  in- 
strument of  conversion  enough; — for  its  Power  resides 
in  its  Quality.  The  very  same  law — awful  and  invio- 
lable, which  demands  its  presence^  demands  also  its 
quality^  as  the  condition  of  its  eflficiency.  Yes,  in- 
deed, awful  and  inviolable  law  ; — awful  because  invi- 
olable ;  and  awful  to  the  Church,  because  it  makes 
the  salvation  of  mankind,  in  each  successive  genera- 
tion, to  lean  with  undivided  stress,  upon  the  purity  and 
vigour  of  faith  and  charity,  as  found  in  the  hearts  of 
the  Christians  of  each  age,  severally  and  collectively! 

There  might,  we  grant,  seem  more  urgent  need  to 
make  inquiry  concerning  the  intrinsic  condition  of  the 
Christian  body  in  those  times  when  its  diffusive  influ- 
ence had  sunk  to  the  lowest  point,  or  seemed  quite  to 
have  failed,  than  when  this  influence  was  growing. 
And  yet,  inasmuch  as  hope  i»  q  motive  incomparably 
more  efficacious  than  despondency,  we  should  be 
prompt  to  avail  ourselves  of  its  aid  whenever  it  makes 
its  auspicious  appearance.  But  the  present  hour  is  an 
hour  of  hope  ; — let  us  then  seize  the  fair  occasion,  and 
turn  it  to  the  utmost  advantage.  This  age  of  expecta- 
tion is  the  time  when  vigilance  and  scrutiny,  of  every 
sort,  should  be  put  in  movement,  and  should  be 
directed  inward  upon  the  Church  itself:  for  in  the 
bosom  of  the  Church  rests  the  hope  of  the  conversion 
of  the  world  ? 

How  culpable  then,  and  how  ignoble  too,  must  we 
deem  that  spirit  of  jealousy  or  reluctance  which  would 
divert  such  a  scrutiny,  as  if  the  honour  of  the  Gospel 
were  better  secured  by  cloaking  the  faults  of  its 
adherents,  than  by  labouring  to  dispel  them  !  Shall 
we,  as  Christians,  wish  to  creep  under  the  shelter  of 
a  corrupt  lenity  1  Shall  we  secretly  wish  that  the 
time  may  never  come — or  at  least,  not  come  while 
we  live,  when  the  inveterate  and  deep-seated  errors 
of  the  religious  body  shall  be  fairly  dealt  with,  and 
honestly  spread  to  the  light  ?  It  may  indeed  be  true 
that  when  we  have  to  denounce  the  flagrant  evils  that 


.1 


10 


FANATICISM. 


abound  in  the  world,  and  when  open  impiety  and 
unbelief  are  to  be  reproved,  we  should  use  a  serious 
severity;  but  then,  when  we  turn  homeward,  shall 
we  at  once  moderate  our  tones,  and  drop  our  voice, 
and  plead  for  a  sort  of  indulgence,  as  the  favourites 
of  heaven,  which  we  are  by  no  means  forward  to 
grant  to  the  uninstructed  and  irreligious  portion  of 
mankind  ?  Shall  our  thunders  always  have  a  distant 
aim  ?  Alas  !  how  many  generations  of  men  have 
already  lived  and  died  untaught,  while  the  Church  has 
delicately  smothered  her  failings,  and  has  asked  for 
an  inobservant  reverence  from  the  profane  work! ! 
True  it  is  that  the  vices  of  heathens  and  infidels  are 
grievous;  but  it  is  also  true  that  the  vices  of  the 
Church,  if  much  less  flagrant,  and  less  mischievous  in 
their  immediate  operation,  are  loaded  with  a  peculiar 
^iggravation,  inasmuch  as  they  destroy  or  impair  the 
ONLY  EXISTING  MEANS  for  the  repression  and  exter- 
mination of  all  error  and  all  vice  ! 

If  then  the  alleged  dependence  of  the  religious 
welfare  of  mankind  upon  the  vigour  and  purity  of  the 
Christian  body  be  real,  we  find  a  full  apology  for 
whatever  methods  (even  the  most  rigorous)  that  may 
conduce  to  its  cleansing.  All  we  need  take  care  of 
is  the  spirit  and  intention  of  our  reproofs.  Should 
there  be  any,  calling  himself  a  disciple  of  Christ,  who 
would  protest  against  such  impartial  proceedings,  he 
might  properly  be  told  that  the  inquiry  in  hand  is  too 
momentous,  and  is  far  too  extensive  in  its  conse- 
quences, than  that  it  should  be  either  diverted  or 
relinquished  in  deference  to  the  feelings  or  interests 
of  the  parties  immediately  concerned. — *Be  it  so,' 
we  might  say  to  the  reluctant  and  faulty  Christian, 
be  it  so,  that  your  spiritual  delinquencies  are  not  of 
so  fatal  a  kind  as  to  put  in  danger  your  personal 
salvation  (an  assumption,  by  the  way,  always  hazard- 
ous) and  let  it  be  granted  that  you  are  chargeable 
only  with  certain  infirmities  of  judgment,  or  with 
mere  exuberances  in  temper  or  conduct; — yes,  but 


MOTIVES    OP   THE   WORK. 


11 


these  faults  in  you,  as  a  Christian,  and  especially  at 
the  present  critical  moment,  exert  a  negative  power, 
the  circle  of  which  none  can  measure.  Can  you  then 
desire  that  we  should  exercise  a  scrupulous  tenderness 
toward  you,  while  we  forget  pity  towards  the  millions 
of  mankind  ?  Nay,  rather,  let  every  instrument  of 
correction,  and  the  most  severe,  be  put  in  play,  which 
may  seem  needful  for  restoring  its  proper  force  to  the 
Gospel — the  only  means  as  it  is  of  mercy  to  the 
world.'  No,  we  must  not  flinch,  although  the  sensi- 
tiveness and  the  vanity  of  thousands  among  us  were 
to  be  intensely  hurt.  Let  all — all  be  humbled,  if  such 
humiliation  is  indeed  a  necessary  process  that  shall 
facilitate  the  conversion  of  the  world. 

Such  then  is  the  prime  motive  which  should  animate 
the  difl[icult  labour  we  have  in  hand.  But  there  are 
other  reasons,  nor  those  very  remote,  that  may  prop- 
erly be  kept  in  view  when  it  is  attempted,  as  now,  to 
lay  bare  the  pernicious  sentiments  that  have  so  often 
and  so  severely  aflilicted  mankind. — If,  just  at  the 
present  moment,  there  seems  little  or  no  probabilitv 
that  sanguinary  and  malignant  superstitions  should 
regain  their  lost  ascendancy,  can  we  say  it  is  certain 
that  no  such  evils,  congruous  as  they  are  with  thF 
universal  passions  of  man,  shall  henceforth  be  gener- 
ated, and  burst  abroad  ?  Manifest  as  it  is  that  the 
human  mind  has  a  leaning  toward  gloomy  and  cruel 
excesses  in  matters  of  religion,  whence  can  we  derive 
a  firm  persuasion  that  this  tendency  shall,  in  all  future 
ages,  be  held  as  much  in  check  as  now  it  is  ? — Not 
surely  from  broad  and  comprehensive  calculations, 
such  as  a  sound  philosophy  authenticates.  The  sup- 
position that  human  nature  has  for  ever  discarded 
certain  powerful  emotions  which  awhile  ago  raged 
within  its  circle,  must  be  deemed  frivolous  and  absurd. 
How  soon  may  we  be  taught  to  estimate  more  wisely 
the  forces  we  have  to  guard  against  in  our  political 
and  religious  speculations !  The  frigid  indiflference 
and  levity  we  see  around  us  is  but  the  fashion  of  a 


12 


FANATICISM. 


day ;  and  a  day  may  see  it  exchanged  for  the  utmost 
extravagance,  and  for  the  highest  frenzy  of  fanatical 
zeal.  Human  nature,  let  us  be  assured,  is  a  more 
profound  and  boisterous  element  than  we  are  apt  to 
imagine,  when  it  has  happened  to  us  for  a  length  of 
time  to  stand  upon  the  brink  of  the  abyss  in  a  summer 
season,  idly  gazing  upon  the  rippled  surface — ^gay  in 
froth  and  sunbeams.  What  shall  be  the  movements 
of  the  deep,  and  what  the  thunder  of  its  rage,  at  night- 
fall, and  when  the  winds  are  up ! 

Nothing  less  than  the  ample  testimony  of  history 
can  support  general  conclusions  as  to  what  is  probable 
or  not,  in  the  course  of  events.  And  yet  even  the 
events  of  the  last  few  years  might  be  enough  to  prove 
that  mankind,  whatever  may  be  the  boasted  advance 
of  civilization,  has  by  no  means  outgrown  its  propen- 
sity to  indulge  vindictive  passions.  Or  can  we  have 
looked  abroad  during  our  own  era,  and  believe  that 
the  fascinations  of  impudent  imposture  and  egregious 
delusion  are  quite  spent  and  gone  ?  Rather  let  it  be 
assumed  as  probable,  at  least  as  not  impossible,  that 
whatever  intemperance,  whatever  atrocity,  whatever 
folly,  iiistory  lays  to  the  charge  of  man,  shall  be  re- 
peated, perhaps  in  our  own  age,  perhaps  in  the  next. 

The  security  which  some  may  presume  upon,  against 
the  reappearance  of  religious  excesses,  if  founded  on 
the  present  diffusion  of  intellectual  and  Biblical  light, 
is  likely  to  prove  fallacious  in  two  capital  respects. 
In  the  first  place,  the  inference  is  faulty  because  this 
spread  of  knowledge  (in  both  kinds)  though  indeed 
wide  and  remarkable — or  remarkable  by  comparison^ 
is  still  in  fact  very  limited,  and  its  range  bears  an  in- 
considerable proportion  to  the  broad  surface  of  society, 
even  in  the  most  enlightened  communities.  If  a  cer- 
tain number  has  reached  that  degree  of  intelligence 
which  may  be  reckoned  to  exclude  altogether  the 
probability  of  violent  movements,  the  dense  masses  of 
society,  on  all  sides,  have  hitherto  scarcely  been 
blessed  by  a  ray  of  genuine  illumination ;  moreover, 


MOTIVES    OF   THE    WORK. 


13 


there  is  in  our  own  country,  and  in  every  country  of 
Europe,  a  numerous  middle  class,  whose  progress  in 
knowledge  is  of  that  sort  which,  while  it  fails  to  insure 
moderation  or  control  of  the  passions,  renders  the  mind 
only  so  much  the  more  susceptible  of  imaginative  ex- 
citements. Torpor,  it  is  true,  has  to  a  great  extent 
been  dispelled  from  the  European  social  system  ;  but 
who  shall  say  in  what  manner,  or  to  what  purposes, 
the  returning  powers  of  life  shall  be  employed  ?  In 
now  looking  upon  the  populace  of  the  civilized  world, 
such  as  the  revolutionary  excitements  of  the  last  fifty 
years  have  made  it,  one  might  fancy  to  see  a  crea- 
ture of  gigantic  proportions  just  rousing  itself,  after  a 
long  trance,  and  preparing  to  move  and  act  among  the 
living.  But,  what  shall  be  its  deeds,  and  what  its 
temper? — The  most  opposite  expectations  might  be 
made  to  appear  reasonable.  Every  thing  favourable 
may  be  hoped  for; — whatever  is  appalling  may  be 
feared.  At  least  we  may  affirm  that  the  belief  enter- 
tained by  some,  that  great  agitations  may  not  again 
produce  great  excesses  ;  or  that  egregious  delusions 
may  not  once  more,  even  on  the  illuminated  field  of 
European  affairs,  draw  after  them,  as  in  other  ages, 
myriads  of  votaries,  rests  upon  no  solid  grounds  of 
experience  or  philosophy,  and  will  be  adopted  only  by 
those  who  judge  of  human  nature  from  partial  or  tran- 
sient aspects,  or  who  think  that  the  frivolous  incidents 
of  yesterday  and  to-day  afford  a  sufficient  sample  of 
all  Time. 

But  a  persuasion  of  this  sort,  founded  on  the  spread 
of  intelligence,  whether  secular  or  religious,  seems 
faulty  in  another  manner — namely,  in  attributing  to 
knowledge,  of  either  kind,  more  influence  than  it  is 
actually  found  to  exert  over  the  passions  and  the  ima- 
gination of  the  bulk  of  mankind.  Education  does 
indeed  produce,  in  full,  its  proper  effect  to  moderate 
the  emotions,  and  Jis  a  preservative  against  delusion, 
in  cold,  arid,  and  calculating  spirits  ;  and  it  exerts  also, 
in  a  good  degree,  the  same  sort  of  salutary  influence 


14 


FANATICISM. 


MOTIVES    OP    THE    WORK. 


15 


over  even  the  most  turbulent  or  susceptible  minds,  up 
to  that  critical  moment  when  the  ordinary  counter- 
poise of  reason  is  overborne,  and  when  some  para- 
mount motive  gains  ascendancy.  This  sudden  over- 
throw of  restraining  principles  —  an  overthrow  to 
which  sanguine  and  imaginative  temperaments  are 
always  liable,  is  not  often  duly  allowed  for  when  it  is 
attempted  to  forecast  the  course  of  human  affairs. — 
We  form  our  estimate  of  moral  causes  according  to 
that  rate  of  power  at  which  we  observe  them  now  to 
be  moving ;  but  fail  to  anticipate  what  they  shall  be- 
come, perhaps  the  next  instant,  that  is  to  say,  when 
existing  restraints  of  usage  or  feeling  have  been  burst 
asunder. 

The  rush  of  the  passions,  on  such  occasions,  is  im- 
petuous, just  in  proportion  to  the  force  that  may  have 
been  overthrown  ;  and  whatever  has  given  way  before 
the  torrent  goes  forward  to  swell  the  tide.  There 
are  those  who,  from  their  personal  history,  might  con- 
firm the  truth  that,  when  they  have  fallen,  their  fall 
was  aggravated,  not  softened,  by  whatever  advantages 
they  possessed  of  intelligence  or  sensibility.  And  it  is 
especially  to  be  observed  that,  when  the  balance  of 
the  mind  has  once  been  lost,  the  power  of  intelligence 
or  of  knowledge  to  enhance  the  vehemence  of  malig- 
nant emotions,  or  to  exaggerate  preposterous  conceits, 
is  immeasurably  greater  on  occasions  of  general  ex- 
citement, or  of  public  delusion,  than  in  the  instance  of 
private  and  individual  errors.  Whence  in  fact  does 
knowledge  draw  the  chief  part  of  its  controlling  force 
over  the  mind,  but  from  the  susceptibility  it  engenders 
to  the  opinions  of  those  around  us  ?  In  entering  the 
commonwealth  of  intelligence  do  we  not  come  under 
an  influence  that  will  probably  out-measure  the  acces- 
sion we  may  make  of  personal  power?  It  is  only  on 
particular  occasions  that  we  regulate  our  conduct,  or 
repress  the  violence  of  passion  by  self-derived  infer- 
ences from  what  we  know ;  while  ordinarily  and  al- 
most unconsciously,  we  apply  to  our  modes  of  action 


and  to  our  sentiments,  those  general  maxims  that  float 
in  the  society  of  which  we  are  members.  If  every 
man's  personal  intelligence  absolutely  governed  his 
behaviour,  the  empire  of  knowledge  would  indeed  be 
much  more  firm  than  it  is,  because  truth  would  take 
effect  at  all  points  of  the  surface  of  society,  instead  of 
touching  only  a  few.  But  this  not  being  the  fact, 
whatever  blind  impulse  awakens  the  passions  of  man- 
kind affects  all,  individually,  in  a  degree  that  bears 
little  relation  to  the  indiv'idual  intelligence  of  each. 
The  movements  of  a  community  when  once  excited, 
are  far  more  passionate  and  less  rational,  than  an 
estimate  of  its  average  intelligence  might  lead  us  to 
expect. 

If  it  be  so,  it  must  happen  that  when  once  a  turn  is 
made  in  the  general  tendency  of  men's  feelings — when 
once  a  certain  order  of  sentiment,  or  a  certain  course 
t)f  conduct   has  come  to  be  authenticated  ; — if,    for 
example,    some   dark,    cruel,    or   profligate   rule   of 
policy  is  assented  to  as  necessary  or  just,  all  men  in 
particular,    in   yielding  themselves  to  the  stream  of 
affairs,  will  plunge  into  it  with  an  impetuosity  propor- 
tioned  to  their  personal  intelligence  and  energy   of 
mind.     Every  man  in  assenting  to  the  general  conclu- 
sioa,  because  assented  to  by  others,  would  strengthen 
himself  and  others,  in  the  common   purpose,  by  all 
those    means    of    knowledge   and   powers  of   argu- 
ment  which  he  possessed.     If  the  error  or  extrava- 
gance had  been  his  own,  exclusively,  his  faculty  and 
furniture  of  mind  would  have  been  employed  in  defend- 
ing himself  from  the   assaults  of  other   men's  good 
sense  ;  and  human  nature  does  not,  under  such  circum- 
stances, often  accumulate  such  force. — But  the  same 
faculties  moving  forward  with  the  multitude,   on   a 
broad  triumphant  road,  swell  and  expand  and  possess 
themselves  of  the  full  dominion  of  the  soul. 

At  this  present  moment  of  general  indifference  the 
breaking  forth  of  any  species  of  fanaticism  may  seem 
highly  improbable.     We  ought  however  to  look  be- 


16 


FANATICISM. 


yond  to-day  and  yesterday ;— we  should  survey  the 
general  face  of  histor\%  and  should  inspect  too  the 
depths  of  the  human  heart,  and  calculate  the  power  of 
its  stronger  passions.— Disbelief  is  the  ephemeron  of 
our  times  ;  but  disbelief,  far  from  being  natural  to  man, 
can  never  be  more  than  a  reaction  that  comes  on,  as  a 
faintness,  after  a  season  of  credulity  and  superstition. 
And  how  soon  may  a  revulsion  take  place  !  How  soon, 
after  the  hour  of  exhaustion  has  gone  by,  may  the 
pleasurable  excitements  of  high  belief  and  of  unbounded 
confidence  be  eagerly  courted  ! — courted  by  the  vulgar 
in  compliance  with  its  relish  of  whatever  is  pungent 
and  intense  ; — courted  by  the  noble  as  a  means,  or  as 
a  pretext  of  power ;— courted  by  the  frivolous  as 
a  relief  from  lassitude ;  and  by  the  profound  and 
thoughtful,  as  the  proper  element  of  minds  of  that 
order ! 

Whenever  the  turn  of  belief  shall  come  round  (we 
are  not  here  speaking  of  a  genuine  religious  faith) 
empassioned  sentiments,  of  all  kinds,  will  follow  with- 
out delay :  nor  can  any  thing  less  than  a  revival  of 
Christianity  in  its  fullest  force  then  avail  to  ward  off 

thoseexcessesof  fanaticism  and  intolerance,andspirituai 
arrogance  which  heretofore  iiave  raged  in  the  world. 
The  connexion  of  CREDur.iTY  with  virulence  is  deep 
seated  in  the  principles  of  human  nature,  and  it  should 
not  be  deemed  impertinent  or  unseasonable  at  any 
time  to  attempt  to  trace  to  its  origin  this  order  of  sen- 
timents, or  to  lay  bare  the  fibres  of  its  strength  : — 
unless  indeed,  we  will  profess  to  think  that  man  is  no 
more  what  once  he  was. 


SECTION  II. 


THE    MEANING    OF    TERMS RISE    OF    THE    MALIGN 

EMOTIONS. 

Every  term,  whether  popular  or  scientific,  which  may 
be  employed  to  designate  the  affections  or  the  indivi- 
dual dispositions  of  the  human  mind,  is  more  or  less 
indeterminate,  and  is  liable  to  many  loose  and  im- 
proper extensions  of  the  sense  which  a  strict  definition 
might  assign  to  it.  This  disadvantage — the  irremediable 
grievance  of  intellectual  philosophy,  has  its  origin  in 
the  obscurity  and  intricacy  of  the  subject ;  and  is  be- 
sides much  aggravated  by  the  changing  fashions  of 
speech,  which  neither  observe  scientific  precision,  nor 
are  watched  over  with  any  care. — Men  speak  not 
entirely  as  they  think  ;  but  as  they  think  and  hear  ;  and 
in  what  relates  to  things  impalpable  few  either  think 
or  hear  attentively.  All  ethical  and  religious  phrases, 
and  those  psychological  terms  which  derive  their 
specific  sense  from  the  principles  of  religion,  besides 
partaking  fully  of  the  above-named  disparagements, 
common  to  intellectual  subjects,  labour  under  a  peculiar 
inconvenience,  not  shared  by  any  others  of  that  class. 
For  if  the  mass  of  men  are  inaccurate  and  capricious 
in  their  mode  of  employing  the  abstruse  portion  of 
language,  they  entertain  too  often,  in  what  relates  to 
religion,  certain  capital  errors — errors  which  ordinarily 
possess  the  force  and  activity  of  virulent  prejudices, 
and  which  impart  to  their  modes  of  speaking,  not  in- 
distinctness indeed,  but  the  vivid  and  positive  colours 
of  a  strong  delusion. 

3* 


18 


FANATICISM. 


It   is  not  the  small  minority  of  persons   soundly- 
informed  in  matters  of  religion,  that  gives  law  to  the 
language  of  a  country ;— or  even  if  it  did,  this  class  is 
not  generally  qualified,  by  habits  or  education,  to  fix 
and  authenticate  a  philosophical  nomenclature.    From 
these  peculiar  disadvantages  it  inevitably  follows  that 
when,  by  giving  attention  to  facts,  we  have  obtained 
precise  notions  on  subjects  of  this  sort,  or  at  least 
have  approximated  to  truth,  it  will  be  found  imprac- 
ticable to  adjust  the  result  of  our  inquiries  to  the 
popular  and  established  sense  of  any  of  the  terms 
which  may  oflfer  themselves  to  our  option.     The  mass 
of  mankind,   besides   their  backwardness   always  to 
exchange    a    loose    and   vague,   for  a  definite    and 
restricted  notion,  do  not  fail  to  descry,  in  any  defini- 
tion that  is  at  once  philosophical  nnd  religious,  some 
cause  of  oflfence.— The  new-sharpened  phrase  is  felt 
to  have  an  edge  that  wounds  inveterate  prejudice,  and 
rankles  in  the  heart ;  and  the  writer  who  is  seen  to 
be   thus   whetting  afresh   his   words,  is  deemed   to 
entertain  a  hostile  purpose,  and  is  met  with  a  corres- 
pondent hostility.     Nor  is  much  more  favour  to  be 
looked   for   from    the   religious   classes  who,  always 
alarmed  at  the  slightest  change  in  venerahle  modes  of 
speech,  will  scent  a  heresy  in  every  such  definition. 

If  then  new  terms  are  not  to  be  created  (a  pro- 
cedure always  undesirable)  and  if  the  intolerable 
inconvenience  of  a  ponderous  periphrasis  is  also  to  be 
avoided,  the  best  that  can  be  done,  amid  so  many 
difficulties,  is  to  select  a  phrase  which,  more  nearly 
than  any  other  (of  those  commonly  in  use)  conveys 
the  notion  we  have  obtained ;  and  then  to  append  a 
caution,  explicit  or  implied,  against  the  misunder- 
standings to  which  the  writer,  from  the  peculiar 
circumstances  of  the  case,  is  exposed. 

In  the  instance  of  every  term  connected  with 
religious  principles  or  modes  of  feeling,  there  must  of 
course  be  admitted  a  far  wider  departure  from  the 
etymological  or  ancient,  than  from  the  modern  and 


THE    MEANING    OF    TERMS. 


19 


popular  sense  they  bear.  If  the  recent  and  vulgar 
meaning  of  such  phrases  be  incorrect,  or  delusive, 
how  much  more  so  must  be  the  remote  and  original 
meaning  ! — Whither  does  the  etymon  carry  us,  but  to 
altogether  a  foreign  region  of  thought  ?  In  matters  of 
religion  a  revolution  has  taken  place,  upon  all  lettered 
nations,  which,  while  it  leaves  human  nature  the  same, 
has  imparted  a  new  substance,  a  new  form,  and  a 
new  relative  position,  to  every  notion  that  respects 
Invisible  Power,  and  human  conduct. 

Preposterous  therefore  would  be  the  pedantry  of  a 
writer  who,  in  discoursing,  for  example,  of  Supersti- 
tion, or  Enthusiasm,  should  confine  himself  to  such  a 
definition  of  those  terms  as  might  comport  with  the 
sense  they  bore,  centuries  ago,  in  the  minds  of  Lucian, 
Plutarch,  Epictetus,  or  Aristotle  !  Even  many  of  the 
less  fluctuating  ethical  abstractions  have  dropped 
almost  the  whole  of  their  primeval  significance  in  the 
course  of  ages.  Is  Justice,  in  the  sense  of  an  Athenian 
populace,  or  in  the  sense  of  the  "  Senate  and  People 
of  Rome,"  the  justice  either  of  English  law,  or  of 
English  opinion?  Has  the  Virtue  of  Sparta  much 
analogy  with  the  virtue  of  Christian  ethics  ?  Where, 
in  modern  times  (except  indeed  among  the  slave- 
holders of  Republican  America)  where  shall  we  find 
a  meaning  of  the  word  Liberty  which  has  even  a 
remote  resemblance  to  the  sense  attached  to  it  by  the 
ferocious  lords  of  miserable  Lacedaemonian  helots  ? 

The  passions  of  man  are  permanent ;  but  the  dif- 
ference between  polytheism  and  true  theology — how 
much  soever  true  theology  may  in  any  instance  be 
encumbered  or  obscured,  is  so  vast,  as  to  leave 
nothing  that  belongs  to  the  circle  of  religious  emotion 
unchanged. 

Thus  it  is  that  the  Fanatic  of  the  Grecian  and 
Roman  writers  is  hardly,  if  at  all,  to  be  recognized  as 
predecessor  of  the  Fanatic  of  Christendom ;  and 
although,  for  purposes  of  illustration,  or  of  mere  curi- 
osity, we  may  hereafter  glance  (once  and  again)  at 


20 


FANATICISM. 


some  of  the  ancient  and  long-obsolete  forms  of 
religious  extravagance,  it  is  with  the  modern  species 
(practical  inferences  being  our  prime  object)  that  we 
shall,  in  the  following  pages,  chiefly  be  conversant. 

In  a  former  instance  (Natural  History  of  Enthu- 
siasm) the  author  was  not  insensible  of  the  disadvan- 
tage he  laboured  under  in  adopting  a  phrase  which 
perhaps  more  than  any  other  (the  one  he  has  now  to 
do  with  excepted)  is  employed  in  every  imaginable 
diversity  of  meaning,  and  to  which,  in  truth,  every 
nian,-as  he  utters  it,  assigns  a  sense  that  reflects  his 
his  personal  rate  of  feeling  in  matters  of  religion. 
One  man's  Enthusiasm  being  only  another  man's 
Sobriety.  Before  such  diversities  can  be  harmonised 
not  only  must  mankind  be  taught  to  think  with  pre- 
cision, but  must  come  also  to  an  agreement  on  the 
great  principles  of  piety. 

Discordances,  still  more  extreme,  belong  to  the 
popular  senses  of  the  word  Fanaticism;  for  inas- 
much as  it  takes  up  a  more  pungent  element  than  the 
term  Enthusiasm,  it  commonly  draws  some  special 
emphasis  from  the  virulence  or  prejudices  of  the 
mouth  whence  it  issues : — the  word  is  the  favourite 
missile  of  that  opprobrious  contempt  wherewith  Irre- 
ligion  defends  itself  in  its  diflicult  position ;  and  it  is 
hurled  often  with  the  indiscriminate  vehemence  that 
belongs  to  infuriate  fear.  The  sense  attached  to  a 
term  when  so  employed  must  of  course  differ  im- 
mensely from  that  which  it  bears  in  the  mind  of  the 
dispassionate  observer  of  mankind,  and  especially  of 
one  who  takes  up  the  truths  of  Christianity  as  the 
best  and  most  certain  clew  to  the  philosophy  of  human 
nature. 

Once  for  all  then,  the  author  requests  the  reader  to 
remember  that  he  is  not  professing  to  be  either  lexico- 
grapher or  scholastic  disputant ;  nor  does  he  assume 
it  as  any  part  of  his  business  to  adjust  the  nice  propri- 
eties of  language ;  but  aims  rather,  on  a  very  impor- 
tant subject,  to  make  himself  understood,  while  he  des- 


THE    MEANING    OF    TERMS. 


21 


cribes  a  certain  class  of  pernicious  sentiments,  which 
too  often  have  been  combined  with  religious  belief.  In 
another  volume  spurious  and  imaginative  religious 
emotions  were  spoken  of:  our  present  task  is  to  des- 
cribe the  various  combinations  of  the  same  spuri- 
ous pietism  with  the  Malign  Passions. 

After  quite  rejecting  from  our  account  that  oppro- 
brious sense  of  the  word  Fanaticism  which  the  viru- 
lent calumniator  of  religion  and  of  the  religious  assigns 
to  it,  it  will  be  found,  as  we  believe,  that  the  elemen- 
tary idea  attaching  to  the  term  in  its  manifold  applica- 
tions, is  that  o^  fictitious  fervour  in  religion,  rendered 
turbulent,  morose  or  rancorous,  by  junction  with  some 
one  or  more  of  the  unsocial  emotions.  Or  if  a  defini- 
tion  as  brief  as  possible  were  demanded,  we  should 
say,  that  Fanaticism  is  Enthusiasm  inflamed  by 
Hatred. 

A  glance  at  the  rise  and  reason  of  the  irascible 
emotions  will  facilitate  our  future  progress.  Our  sub- 
ject being  an  instance  of  the  combination  of  these 
emotions  with  other  principles,  we  ought  distinctly  to 
have  in  view  the  elements ;  and  to  note  also  some  of 
their  coalescent  forms. 

The  difficulty  that  attends  analysis  in  the  science  of 
mind  (science  so  called)  belongs  in  a  peculiar  manner 
to  those  instances  in  which  we  endeavour  to  trace  the 
the  original  construction  of  passions  or  impulses  that 
scarcely  ever  present  themselves  otherwise  than  in  an 
exaggerated  and  corrupted  condition.  It  is  usual  if 
an  object  of  philosophic  curiosity  be  obscure  or  evan- 
escent, to  single  out  for  examination  the  most  marked 
examples  of  the  class.  But  to  take  this  course  in  an 
analysis  of  the  passions  is  to  seek  for  primitive  ele- 
ments where  most  they  have  lost  their  original  form, 
and  have  suffered  the  most  injury. 

What  the  contour  and  symmetry  of  the  moral  form 
was,  as  it  came  from  the  hand  of  the  Creator,  may  be 
more  readily  determined  in  the  dry  method  of  ethical 
definition,  than  vividly  conceived  of;  and  this  is  espe- 


22 


FANATICISM. 


cially  true  of  those  emotions  which  imply  the  presence 
of  evil.  How  delicate  is  the  task— if  indeed  it  be  a 
practicable  one,  to  trace  the  line  between  nature  (in 
the  best  sense)  and  deformity— between  the  true  and 
false,  in  these  instances  !  And  yet,  not  the  most  ran- 
corous or  foul  of  the  malign  sentiments  can  be  thought 
any  thmg  else  than  a  disordered  state  of  ^ome  power 
indispensable  to  the  constitution  of  a  rational  and  inde- 
pendent agent.  We  need  then  take  care  lest,  in  our 
haste  to  condemn  what  is  evil,  we  should  denounce  as 
such  that  of  which  God  himself  is  author,  and  which, 
if  we  think  closely,  cannot  even  be  conceived  of  as 
altogether  wanting  in  a  being  placed  where  man  is 
placed. 

Within  a  certain  line  there  can  however  be  no  dif- 
ficulty in  deciding  between  good  and  evil.  It  is  quite 
obvious  that  a  passion  or  appetite,  subservient  to  some 
specihc  purpose,  is  in  an  irregular  state  when  it  over- 
passes or  fails  to  secure  that  purpose ;— the  end  must 
give  law  to  the  means  ;  and  where  the  end  may  clearly 
be  defined,  the  limit  which  the  means  should  reach  is 
not  hard  to  ascertain.  Either  by  Excess  and  too  great 
intensity — or  by  Perversion,  or  misdirection  from 
their  proper  object— or  by  Prolongation  from  mo- 
mentary impulses  to  habits  and  permanent  qualities, 
as  well  the  animal  appetites  as  the  irascible  passions 
assume  a  pernicious  form,  and  derange  the  harmony 
of  nature. 

Which  of  the  emotions  or  desires  is  it  that  may 
justly  claim  to  be  not  subservient,  but  paramount,  and 
may  therefore  safely  be  prolonged,  and  impart  them- 
selves  as  qualities  to  the  mind.  Nature  distinctly  in- 
forms  us,  by  rendering  them  always  agreeable  ;  while 
some  uneasiness,  or  even  positive  pain,  is  attached  to 
the  continuance  of  every  one  of  those  feelings  which, 
in  her  intention,  are  only  to  measure  out  a  moment- 
ary occasion,  and  which  ought  to  rise  and  disappear 
in  the  same  hour. 

It  is  thus,  we  need  hardly  say,  with  the  bodily  appe- 


RISE    OP   THE    MALIGN    PASSIONS. 


23 


tltes,  which  disturb  the  system  (as  well  corporeal  as 
mental)  whenever  they  do  more  than  accomplish  their 
definite  purpose.  Indispensible  as  these  impulses  are 
to  the  machinery  of  life,  they  take  a  noxious  quality 
when  they  are  detained :  their  property  should  be  to 
evaporate  without  residuum.  Each,  moreover,  has  its 
specific  object,  and  throws  every  other  function  into 
disorder  if  it  become  fastidious ;  and  each  too  must 
observe  its  due  amount  of  force. 

The  same  is  true  of  all  forms  of  the  irascible  emo- 
tions, and  which  never  go  beyond  their  purpose, 
and  especially  can  never  pass  into  dispositions,  with- 
out vitiating  the  character.  Each  single  instance 
of  excessive  excitement  contributes,  shall  we  say,  the 
whole  amount  of  its  excess  to  the  formation  of  a  habit 
of  the  same  class ;  and  then  these  habits — emotions 
parted  from  their  occasions,  soon  run  into  some  sort  of 
perversion,  or  become  misdirected.  Unoccupied  de- 
sire strays  from  its  path,  and  attaches  itself  perni- 
ciously to  w^hatever  objects  it  may  meet.  It  is  thus 
that  human  nature  subsides  into  the  most  corrupted 
states.  A  certain  mode  of  feeling  is  generated,  of  the 
utter  unreasonableness  of  which  the  mind  is  dimly 
conscious,  and  to  rid  itself  of  the  uneasy  sense  of 
being  absurd,  rushes  on  towards  sentiments  still  more 
preposterous,  that  by  their  aid  it  may  quite  surround 
itself  with  false  impressions,  and  lose  all  recollection 
of  calm  truths.  As  there  is  an  intoxication  of  the 
animal  appetites,  so  is  there  an  intoxication  of  the  ma- 
lign passions  ;  and  perhaps  if  we  could  completely  ana- 
lyse some  extreme  instance  of  dark  and  atrocious  hatred 
— hatred  when  it  constitutes  the  fixed  condition  of  the 
soul,  we  should  find  that  the  miserable  being  has 
become  what  he  is  by  the  impulse  of  a  perpetual 
endeavour  to  drown  self-reproach  and  inward  con- 
tempt, in  deeper  and  deeper  draughts  of  the  cup  of 
poison. 

Up  to  that  point  where  the  subordinate  principles  of 
our  nature  become  transmuted  into  permanent  quali- 


24 


FANATICISM. 


ties,  imparling  a  character  to  the  mind,  it  is  easy  to 
discern  their  reason  and  propriety  as  constituents  of 
the  physical  and  moral  life  :  nor  can  we  fail  to  per- 
ceive that  each  is  attended  with  a  provision  for  restrain- 
ing it  within  due  limits.  Thus  it  is,  as  we  have  said, 
that  while  the  machinery  of  animal  life  is  impelled  by 
the  sense  of  pleasure  which  is  attached  to  the  brief 
activity  of  the  appetites,  an  admonitory  uneasiness 
attends  the  excessive  indulgence  or  protracted  excite- 
ment of  them.  Consistently  with  this  same  regard  to 
ulterior  purposes,  the  irascible  emotions  in  ihe'ir  native 
state,  are  denied  any  attendant  pleasurable  sense ; 
or  at  most  so  small  an  element  of  pleasure  belongs  to 
them,  that  the  pain  consequent  upon  their  excess  or 
their  continuance  is  always  paramount.  The  dash  of 
gratification,  if  there  be  any,  does  but  give  momentary 
life  to  the  rising  energy,  and  then  passes  off. 

The  irascible  passions  can  be  allowed  to  have  respect 
to  nothing  beyond  the  preservation  of  life,  or  of  its 
enjoyments,  in  those  unforeseen  occasions  when  no 
other  means  but  an  instantaneous  exertion  of  more 
than  the  ordinary  force,  both  of  body  and  mind,  and 
especially  of  the  latter,  could  avail  for  the  purpose 
of  defence  : — anger  is  the  safeguard  of  beings  not 
housed,  like  the  tortoise,  within  an  impenetrable  crust ; 
and  if  man  had  been  born  cased  in  iron,  or  were  an 
ethereal  substance,  he  would  probably  have  been 
furnished  with  no  passionate  resentments.  Neverthe- 
less every  good  purpose  of  such  emotions  has  been 
answered  when  the  faculties  have  received  that  decree 
and  kind  of  stimulus  which  the  exigency  of  the  mo- 
ment  demanded ;  and  their  continuance  must  be 
always  (if  it  were  nothing  worse)  a  waste  and  a  perver- 
sion of  power ;  since  the  conservative  ends  they  may 
seem  to  have  in  view  are  far  more  certainly  secured 
by  other  means  when  the  sudden  peril  is  gone  by. 
Malign  dispositions  and  vindictive  habits  are,  shall  we 
say,  miserable  encumbrances  of  the  mind ;  as  if  a 
man  would  sustain  the  load  of  bulky  armour,  night 


THE    MEANING    OF    TERMS. 

and  day,  and  carry  shield  and  lance,  though  probably 
he  will  not  encounter  a  foe  once  in  the  year.  The 
checks  of  opinion,  the  motives  of  mutual  interest ;  and 
at  last  the  provisions  of  law,  and  the  arm  of  the  body 
politic,  are  in  readiness  to  defend  us  from  every 
aggression,  those  only  excepted  which  must  be  re- 
pelled at  the  instant  they  are  made,  or  not  at  all. 

That  brisk  excitement  of  the  faculties  which  a  sud- 
den perception  of  danger  occasions,  not  merely  bears 
proportion  to  the  nearness  and  extent  of  the  peril,  but 
has  a  relation  to  its  qualitf/  and  its  supposed  origin. 
Ihis  excitement,  to  answer  its  end,  must  possess  an 
aihnity  with  the  aggressive  cause.  The  repellant 
power  must  be  such  as  is  the  assailant  power.  A  quick 
sympathy  with  the  hostile  purpose  of  an  antagonist 
belongs  to  the  emotion  at  the  impulse  of  which  we  are 
to  withstand  his  attack.  Simple  ear,  and  its  attendant 
courage,  are  enough  if  the  danger  we  have  to  meet 
arises  from  material  causes  only  ;  or  if  a  mechanical 
injury  is  all  that  is  thought  of.  But  anger,  and  the 
courage  peculiar  to  anger,  is  called  up  when  mind  con- 
tends with  MIND,  that  is  to  say,  when  an  injury  is  to 
be  warded  off  which  (whether  truly  so  or  not)  we 
believe  to  spring  from  the  inimical  intention  of  a  being 
like  ourselves.  In  this  case  matter  and  its  properties 
are  forgotten,  or  are  thought  of  as  the  mere  instru- 
ments of  the  threatened  harm,  while  we  rouse  our- 
selves to  grapple,  soul  against  soul  with  our  foe. 

For  the  very  same  reason  that  some  knowledge, 
more  or  less  accurate,  of  the  laws  of  matter  (whether 
acquired  by  the  methods  of  science,  or  by  common 
experience)  is  indispensable  as  our  guide  in  avoiding  or 
repelling  physical  evils,  so  is  an  intuition  of  motives 
necessary  to  our  safety  when  it  is  a  hostile  purpose 
that  originates  the  danger  we  are  exposed  to.  Sue- 
cessfully  to  resist  an  impending  harm,  we  must  rightly 
conceive  of  its  occult  cause. 

There  may  be  those  who  would  ask — "  Why  should 
we  suppose  these  irascible  emotions,  liable  as  they  are 


26 


FANATICISM. 


RISE    OF    THE    MALIGN    EMOTIONS. 


27 


to  abuse,  and  destructive  as  they  often  become,  to  be 
original  ingredients  of  our  nature  ;  or  why  needs  man 
be  furnished  with  any  impulses  more  potent  or  com- 
plex than  those  given  him  as  a  defence  against  physical 
injuries  ? "  The  answer  is  not  difficult.— -An  additional 
motive  and  a  more  vigorous  spring  is  needed  in  the 
one  case  which  is  not  requisite  in  the  other,  because 
the  danger  in  the  one  is  of  a  far  more  recondite  qual- 
ity than  in  the  other,  and  demands  a  commensurate 
provision.  If,  for  our  safety,  we  must  know  to  what 
extent,  at  what  distances,  and  under  what  conditions, 
fire  may  destroy  or  torment  us  ;  we  must,  for  a  like 
reason,  know  the  nature,  extent,  and  conditions  of  the 
harm  that  may  arise  from  the  rage  of  a  furious  man. 
Now  it  does  not  appear  that  the  extreme  exigency  of 
the  moment  could  be  met  in  any  way  so  efficaciously 
—if  at  all,  as  by  this  sudden  sympathy  with  the  ill 
intention  of  our  enemy— a  sympathy  which,  as  by  a 
flash  of  consciousness,  puts  us  into  possession  of  his 
evil  purpose.  The  rage  or  the  malice  of  the  aggressor, 
thus  reflected  (if  dimly  yet  truly)  upon  the  imagination 
of  whoever  is  its  object,  informs  him  with  the  rapidity 
of  lightning,  of  all  he  should  prepare  himself  to  meet. 
May  we  not  properly  admire  the  simplicity  and  the 
fitness  of  this  machinery  ? 

It  is  quite  another  question,  and  one  which  does 
not  now  press  upon  us — Whence  comes  that  first 
malignant  purpose  or  hostile  intention  against  which 
the  irascible  emotions  are  provided  ?  Evil  existing  as 
it  does,  we  are  here  concerned  only  with  the  arrange- 
ment made  for  repelling  it.  Let  it  then  be  remember- 
ed, that  inasmuch  as  the  hostile  powers  of  mind  are 
far  more  pernicious,  because  more  various,  insidious 
and  pertinacious  than  those  of  matter  (which  can 
move  only  in  a  single  direction)  there  is  required  more 
motive  and  more  energy  to  resist  them.  Now  this 
necessary  accession  of  power  is,  might  we  say,  bor- 
rowed for  the  moment  when  it  is  wanted,  by  sympathy 
from  the  aggressor.     He  who  rises  in  fatal  rage  upon 


his  fellow,  does,  by  the  contrivance  of  nature,  and  at 
the  very  instant  of  his  violent  act,  put  into  the  hand  of 
his  victim  a  weapon  that  may  actually  avert  the  stroke. 
The  vicious  and  exaggerated  condition  in  which  these 
passions  usually  present  themselves  (a  condition  acci- 
dental, not  necessary)  should  not  prevent  our  assign- 
ing to  the  wisdom  and  benignity  of  the  Creator  what 
conspiciously  exhibits  both.  And  surely  it  is  becom- 
ing to  us  to  rescue  (if  so  we  may  speak)  the  praise  of 
the  Supreme  in  those  instances  where  most  it  is  ob- 
scured by  the  evils  that  have  supervened  upon  his 
work. 

Yet  all  we  see  around  us  of  the  wisdom  and  bene- 
volence of  the  Author  of  Nature,  especially  as  dis- 
played in  the  constitution  of  the  sentient  orders,  would 
stand  contradicted  if  it  appeared  that  passionate  resent- 
ments were  otherwise  than  painful.*  In  fact  we  do 
not  find  them  to  be  entertained  as  modes  of  gratifica- 
tion until  after  they  have  gone  into  the  unnatural  con- 
dition of  permanent  qualities;  and  even  then  the 
.^ratification,  if  such  it  can  be  called,  is  wrung  out 
from  the  very  torments  of  the  heart.  When  indeed 
these  dark  emotions  have  formed  alliance  with  ima- 
ginative sentiments,  they  at  once  lose  a  portion  of  their 
virulence,  and  borrow  a  sense  of  pleasure,  which  may 
become  very  vivid.  Some  remarkable  cases  of  this 
sort  our  proper  subject  will  lead  us  to  consider. 

There  is,  however,  an  instance  that  may  seem  to  be 
at  variance  with  our  assumptions  ;  and  it  is  one  which 
should  be  fairly  looked  at.  Of  what  sort  then  is  the 
pleasure  of  consummated  revenge  ;  and  whence  does 
it  spring  ? — or  must  we  trace  it  to  the  original  consti- 
tution of  the  mind  ?  To  answer  such  a  question  we 
should  go  back  to  the  elements  of  the  moral  sense. — 
Let  it  then  be  remembered  that  this  sense,  indispen- 
sable as  it  is  to  rational  agency  and  to  responsibility, 
implies,  not  only  a  consciousness  of  pleasure  in  the 


9  S'f  ooyri  TTOim  Troii,  rroiu  XvxovfA.tn^. 


\  1 


28 


FANATICISM. 


RISE    OF    THE    MALIGN    EMOTIONS. 


29 


Tiew  of  what  is  good,  benign,  and  generous ;  but  an 
equal  and  correspondent  feeling  (necessarily  painful) 
towards  the  opposite  qualities,  whether  of  single 
actions  or  of  character.  We  cannot  so  much  as  form 
a  conception  of  a  moral  sense  that  should  possess  one 
of  these  faculties  apart  from  the  other: — as  well 
suppose  the  eye  to  be  percipient  of  light,  but  uncon- 
scious of  darkness.  The  power  of  approval  is  a  nullity, 
if  it  do  not  involve  a  power  of  disapproval  and  disgust. 
What  sort  of  languid  and  vague  instinct  were  it, 
which,  though  capable  of  high  delight  in  the  contem- 
plation of  virtue  and  beneficence,  should  look  listlessly 
and  without  emotion  upon  the  infliction  of  wanton 
torture,  or  upon  acts  of  injustice,  fraud,  or  impurity  ? 
We  may  indeed  imagine  a  world  into  which  no  evils 
and  no  discords  or  deformities  should  gain  admission  ; 
but  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  sentient  beings  en- 
dowed with  faculties  of  pleasure,  such  as  should  in- 
volve  no  power  of  suffering.  Whoever  would  be 
capable  of  exalted  happiness  must  undergo  the  possi- 
bility of  misery,  equally  intense  ;  or  if  the  power  of 
enjoyment  be  greater  than  the  power  of  suffering,  the 
whole  amount  of  the  difference  is  just  so  much  torpor, 
or  so  much  relaxation.  A  sense  or  faculty  may  indeed 
be  numbed  or  paralyzed  ;  but  although  such  damage 
should  secure  an  exemption  from  pain,  no  one  would 
boast  of  it  as  a  natural  perfection. 

The  sense  of  fitness,  whence  arises  our  acquiescence 
in  retributive  proceedings,  as  well  penal  as  remunera- 
tive, implies,  an  uneasiness  not  to  be  dismissed,  or  even 
an  intense  consciousness  of  pain,  so  long  as  merited 
punishment  is  diverted,  or  delayed,  or  its  ultimate 
arrival  is  held  in  doubt.  Few  emotions,  perhaps  none, 
are  more  racking  than  that  which  attends  the  indeter- 
minate delay  of  righteous  retribution.  And  then,  as 
every  faculty  of  pleasure  involves  a  liability  to  pain, 
so  does  a  sudden  release  from  pain,  mental  or  bodily, 
bring  with  it  a  sensation  which,  if  we  must  hesitate  to 

»■ 

\ 


call  it  pleasure,  it  will  be  hard  to  designate  at  alt. — 
Thus  the  extreme  uneasiness  that  attends  the  delay  of 
retribution,  is,  when  at  length  relieved  by  the  infliction 
of  due  punishment,  followed  by  an  emotion  (very 
transient  in  benignant  minds)  which,  if  it  may  not  be 
called  pleasurable,  must  remain  undescribed.  We 
have  only  to  add  that,  as  the  exaggerations  of  self- 
love  render  the  common  desire  of  retribution  intense 
— shall  we  say  intolerable,  if  self  be  the  sufferer,  so, 
and  in  the  same  degree,  will  the  pleasurable  sense  of 
relief  be  enhanced  when,  after  a  doubtful  delay,  ample 
retribution  alights  on  its  victim. — The  continuance,  or 
the  brief  duration  of  this  malign  gratification  might 
well  be  taken  as  a  guage  of  the  nobility  or  baseness  of 
the  mind  that  entertains  it. — If  a  generous  spirit  ad- 
mits at  all  any  such  emotion,  it  will  refuse  to  give  it 
lodgement  longer  than  a  moment,  and  will  gladly  re- 
turn to  sentiments  of  compassion  and  forgiveness.  On 
the  contrary,  a  mind,  by  disposition  and  habit  ranco- 
rous, derives  from  an  achieved  revenge  a  sweetness 
not  soon  spent,  and  which  is  resorted  to  year  after 
year  as  a  cordial. 

So  jealous  is  Nature  of  her  constitutions  that  she 
rigorously  visits  every  infringement  of  them. — To  re- 
volve or  entertain  any  desire  at  a  distance  from  its 
due  occasion,  and  in  the  absence  of  its  fit  object,  is 
always  to  undergo  some  degree  of  corruption  of  the 
faculties — a  corruption  which,  if  not  checked,  spreads 
as  a  canker  even  through  the  powers  of  animal  life. 
All  kinds  of  introverted  mental  action,  even  of  the 
most  innocent  sort,  are  more  or  less  debilitating  to 
both  mind  and  body,  and  trebly  so  when  attended  by 
powerful  emotions.  Might  it  not  be  said  that  health — 
both  animal  and  intellectual,  is  Emanative  movement, 
or  a  progression  from  the  centre,  outwards :  and  is  not 
disease  a  movement  in  the  reverse  direction  ?  Assu- 
redly those  vices  are  the  most  destructive,  the  most 
rancorous,  and  the  most  inveterate,  which  are  i>ecu- 

4* 


30 


FANATICISM. 


liarly  meditative,  or  the  characteristic  of  which  is 
rumination. 

By  extending  themselves  beyond  their  immediate 
occasion,  the  irascible  passions  are  quickly  converted 
from  acts  into  habits. — Thus  anger  becomes  petulance 
or  hatred : — wrath  slides  into  cruelty ;  disgust  into 
moroseness ;  dislike  into  envy ;  and  at  last  the  whole 
course  of  nature  is  "  set  on  fire  ;"  or  worse — undergoes 
the  tortures  of  a  slow  and  smothered  combustion. 

The  transition  of  the  passions  from  momentary 
energies  to  settled  dispositions,  does  not  advance  far 
(much  less  does  it  reach  its  completion)  without  the 
aid  of  what  may  be  termed  a  reverberative  process, 
not  very  difficult  to  be  traced. — That  quick  sympathy 
which  vivifies  the  impressions  of  anger,  by  attributing 
an  ill  intention  to  him  who  assails  us,  accompanies, 
and  even  in  a  higher  degree,  the  same  class  of  feelings 
in  their  transmuted  form  of  permanent  sentiments.  A 
malign  temper  imputes  to  an  adversary,  not  a  momen- 
tary hostility  ;  but  an  evil  nature  and  a  settled  animo- 
sity like  its  own.  The  supposition  takes  its  measure 
and  its  quality  from  the  sentiment  whence  it  springs  ; 
and  as  the  irascible  emotion  has  now  become  a  con- 
stant mood  of  the  mind,  so  is  malignant  character 
made  over  and  assigned  to  whoever  is  its  object.  Evil 
passions  at  this  stage,  are  fast  attaining  their  maturity, 
and  fail  not  soon  to  gain  absolute  mastery  over  the 
soul.  The  meditation  of  evil  abroad,  inflames  evil  at 
home  :  the  infatuated  being  in  idea  challenges  its  ad- 
versary to  take  a  lodgement  even  within  the  palpita- 
ting ramparts  of  the  heart,  so  that  the  conflict  may  go 
on  as  an  intestine  war  at  all  hours,  and  in  all  seasons : 
— night  does  not  part  the  combatants ;  nay  rather  is 
it  then  that,  like  other  savage  natures  which  stalk  forth 
from  their  lairs  in  the  dark,  envenomed  hatreds  (while 
children  of  peace  are  sleeping)  wake  up,  and  rend 
their  prey. 

If  anger  be  simply  painful,  hatred  involves  the  very 
substance  of  misery.    How  should  it  then,  we  may 


RISE    OF   THE    MALIGN    EMOTIONS. 


31 


ask,  subsist  in  the  human  mind,  the  first  instinct  of 
which  is  the  desire  of  happiness  ?  Strong  as  is  this 
instinct,  it  takes  eflfect  only  under  certain  conditions. 
— There  are  circumstances  which  impel  us  to  hold 
even  our  love  of  enjoyment  in  abeyance,  or  which 
make  us  refuse  to  taste  the  least  gratification  until  the 
disturbance  of  feeling  that  has  happened  is  adjusted. 
Do  not  minds  of  a  sensitive  order  repel  every  solicita- 
tion of  pleasure  so  long  as  one  beloved  suffers ;  and 
this,  even  when  the  object  of  fondness  is  far  distant, 
and  quite  beyond  the  reach  of  any  active  service  ? — 
The  happiness  of  those  we  love,  if  indeed  we  be  capa- 
ble of  love,  is  an  indispensable  condition  of  our  own. — 
And  there  are  other  necessary  conditions  of  personal 
peace,  and  some  so  inseparable  from  human  nature 
that  they  can  never  be  evaded.  Of  these  we  have 
already  mentioned  that  which  belongs  to  the  Retribu- 
tive sentiment,  and  which  forbids  us  to  rest  while  the 
author  of  a  wrong  enjoys  impunity. 

A  sort  of  fascination  leads  on  the  tortured  soul  that 
is  the  victim  of  these  feelings  in  a  double  line  ;  on  the 
one  hand  it  eagerly  pursues  its  desire  of  revenge  ;  and 
on  the  other,  labours  with  indefatigable  zeal  to  estab- 
lish its  own  conviction  of  the  malignant  nature  of  its 
adversary.  In  its  eflforts  to  obtain  this  double  satis- 
faction, it  revolves  hourly  all  evidences,  real  or  ima- 
ginary, of  the  innate  atrocity  of  its  foe  ;  for  if  this  point 
were  but  fully  settled,  self  would  be  cleared  of  the 
imputation  of  wrong,  and  the  arrival  of  retribution 
would  seem  so  much  the  more  probable.  But  far 
from  reaching  a  definite  conclusion  of  this  sort,  with 
which  it  might  rest  satisfied,  and  so  return  to  the 
common  enjoyments  of  life,  the  racked  spirit  feels 
from  day  to  day  that  the  very  cogitation  of  its  doubt 
only  enhances  the  motives  that  give  it  force.  Inflamed 
and  insatiate,  the  distracted  being  returns  ever  and 
again  to  the  salt  stream  that,  at  every  draught,  ag- 
gravates its  thirst !     In  this  fever  of  the  heart  the  as- 


32 


FANATICISM. 


sungement  of  the  inward  torment  by  the  destruction 
of  its  adversary,  is  the  only  happiness  it  can  think  of. 

And  yet  even  the  most  extreme  and  deplorable 
instances  that  could  be  adduced  of  the  predominance 
of  the  malignant  passions,  would  serve  to  attest,  at 
once  the  excellence  of  the  original  constitution  of 
human  nature,  and  the  indestructible  property  of  its 
moral  instincts.  Not  the  most  furious  or  irascible  of 
men  can  indulge  his  passion  until  after  he  has  attribu- 
ted an  ill  intention  to  the  object  of  his  wrath.  To  be 
angry  with  that  which  is  seen  and  confessed  to  be  in- 
noxious or  devoid  of  hostile  feeling,  is  a  reach  of  malig- 
nity that  lies  beyond  the  range  of  human  passions,  even 
when  most  corrupted  or  most  inflamed.  How  else 
can  we  account  for  the  absurd  use  which  the  angry  man 
makes  of  the  prosopopceia  when  he  happens  to  be  hurt, 
torn  or  opposed  by  an  inanimate  object : — the  stone, 
the  steel,  the  timber,  which  has  given  him  a  fall,  or 
has  obstructed  his  impatience,  he  curses  on  the  hypoth- 
esis  that  it  is  conscious  and  inimical : — nay,  he  would 
fain  breathe  a  soul  into  the  senseless  mass,  that  he 
might  the  more  reasonably  revile  and  crush  it. 

And  so,  when  hatred  has  become  the  settled  tem- 
per of  the  mind,  there  attends  it  a  bad  ingenuity, 
which  puts  the  worst  possible  construction  upon  the 
words,  actions,  looks  of  the  abhorred  object.  Yet  why 
is  this  but  because  the  laws  of  the  moral  system  for- 
bid that  any  thing  should  be  hated  but  what  actually 
deserves,  or  is  at  the  moment  thought  to  deserve  ab- 
horrence ?  The  most  pernicious  and  virulent  heart 
has  no  power  of  ejecting  its  venom  upon  a  fair  sur- 
face ; — it  must  slur  whatever  it  means  to  poison.  To 
hate  that  which  is  seen  and  confessed  to  be  not  wicked, 
is  as  impossible  as  to  be  angry  with  that  which  is  not 
assumed  to  be  hostile.  And  the  most  depraved  souls, 
whose  only  element  is  revenge,  feel  the  stress  of  this 
necessity  not  a  whit  less  than  the  most  benign  and 
virtuous.  Whether  the  universe  any  where  contains 
spirits  so  malignant  as  to  be  capable  of  hating  without 


RISE    OF   THE    MALIGN    PASSIONS. 


33 


assignment  of  demerit,  or  attributing  of  ill  purpose  to 
their  adversary,  we  know  not ;  but  certainly  man 
never  reaches  any  such  frightful  enormity.* 

What  is  the  constant  style  of  the  misanthrope  ? — 
What  the  burden  of  the  dull  echoes  that  shake  the 
damps  from  the  roof  of  his  cavern  ?  Is  not  his  theme 
ever  and  again — the  malignity,  the  cruelty,  the  false- 
ness of  the  human  race  ?  To'  hate  mankind  is  indeed 
his  rule ;  but  yet  he  must  calumniate  before  he  can 
detest  it.  Nature  is  here  stronger  than  corruption, 
and  a  tribute  is  borne  to  the  unalterable  principles  of 
virtue,  even  by  those  unnatural  lips  that  breathe  uni- 
versal  imprecations  !  How  does  the  solitary  wretch 
— prisoner  as  he  is  of  his  own  malignity,  toil  from  day 
to  day  in  the  work  of  ingenious  detraction !  how  does 
he  recapitulate  and  refute,  untired  the  thousandth  time, 
every  alleged  extenuation  of  human  frailty  or  folly  U— 
How  does  he  strive  to  justify  the  bad  passion  that 
rules  him  ; — how  eagerly  does  he  listen  to  any  new 
proof  of  his  poisonous  dogma — That  man  is  altogether 
abominable  and  ought  to  be  hated  !  Inwardly  he  feels 
the  sheer  absurdity  of  perpetual  malice,  and  is  always 
defending  himself  against  the  accusation  of  doing  im- 
mense wrong  to  his  species.  But  this  very  labour  and 
this  painful  ingenuity  refutes  itself;  for  if  human  nature 
were,  as  he  affirms  it  to  be,  simply  and  purely  evil,  his 
own  bosom  would  not  be  thus  tortured  by  the  endeav- 
our to  prove  mankind  abominable,  as  a  necessary  con- 
dition of  his  malice.  Most  evident  it  is  that  if  man  were 
not  formed  to  love  what  is  good  and  follow  virtue,  he 
would  find  himself  able  to  hate  his  fellows  without 
first  imputing  to  them  wickedness  and  crimes. 

There  might  be  adduced  a  still  more  frightful  case 
of  malignancy,  which,  horrid  as  it  is,  furnishes  the 

*The  mere  supposition  may  seem  to  be  a  contradiction  in  terms  ; 
that  what  is  not  hateful  sliould  be  hated.  But  the  analysis  of  emo- 
tions of  this  sort,  if  carried  on  a  little  further,  brings  us  to  some  such 
notion  as  that  of  malignity  separable  from  an  object  confessed  to  be 
odious. 


34 


FANATICISM. 


very  same  testimony  in  favour  of  the  original  benign 
structure  of  the  human  mind.  If  there  are  indeed 
miserable  beings  that  harbour  dehberate  animosity 
against  Him  who  is  worthy  of  supreme  affection,  as 
well  as  reverence,  yet  this  hatred  must  always  be  pre- 
ceded by  blasphemy.  In  word  or  in  thought,  there 
must  be  charged  upon  the  Sovereign  Ruler  injustice, 
rigour,  malevolence,  before  impiety  can  advance  a  step 
toward  its  hold  and  dread  chmax.  Thus  does  the  Su- 
preme Benevolence  secure  and  receive  an  implicit 
homage,  even  from  the  most  envenomed  lips  ;  for  why 
should  the  divine  character  be  impeached,  if  it  were 
not  that  the  fixed  laws  of  the  moral  world — those  very 
laws  of  which  God  is  author,  forbid  hatred  to  exist  at 
all  (at  least  in  human  nature)  except  on  a  pretext  which 
is  itself  drawn  from  the  maxima  of  goodness  ?  What 
proof  can  be  more  convincing  than  this  is,  that  these 
same  maxims,  these  rules  of  virtue  and  benevolence, 
were  actually  the  guiding  principles  of  the  creation, 
and  must  therefore  belong  as  essential  attributes  to  the 
Creator?  If  man,  by  the  necessity  of  his  nature,  must 
calumniate  and  blacken  whomsoever  he  would  call  his 
enemy,  is  it  not  because  he  is  so  constituted  as  to  detest 
only  what  he  thinks  to  be  evil?  The  fact  indeed  is 
appalling,  that  rational  agents  should  any  where  exist 
who  can  set  themselves  in  array  against  the  source 
and  centre  of  all  perfection.  But  how  much  more 
appalling,  nay — how  horrible  a  thing  were  it,  to  find 
any  beings  whose  nature  allowed  them  to  hate  the 
Sovereign  Goodness  without  first  defaming  it ! 

The  lower  we  descend  into  the  depths  of  the  ma- 
lignant passions,  the  more  striking  are  the  proofs  we 
meet  with  of  the  vigour  of  the  prime  principles  of  the 
moral  life.  There  are,  alas !  scarcely  any  bounds  to 
the  degree  of  corruption  or  depravity  which  man  may 
reach,  but  corruption  or  decay  is  something  far  less  than 
destruction  of  elements ;  and  no  facts  come  within  our 
sphere  of  observation  which  would  imply  that  the  orig- 
inal principles  of  the  rational  economy  are  in  any  caso 


RISE    OF    THE    MALIGN    EMOTIONS. 


35 


annulled.  We  have  already  spoken  of  the  instinct  of 
Retribution,  or  the  vehement  desire  to  see  wrong  vis- 
ited with  punishment ;  and  we  discern,  in  even  the 
darkest  purpose  of  revenge  nothing  more  than  a  par- 
ticular instance  of  this  same  instinct,  inflamed  and 
misdirected  by  preposterous  self-love.  No  case  can 
be  more  conclusive  in  proof  of  this  position  than  the 
revenge  of  jealousy.  When  the  firmest,  and  the  most 
religious  of  the  social  ties  has  been  torn  asunder  by 
the  hand  of  ruthless  lust,  and  an  affection,  more  sensi- 
tive than  any  other,  is  left  to  bleed  and  ulcerate  in 
open  air,  the  inner  structure  of  the  vindictive  passion 
may  be  said  to  be  laid  open,  and  it  is  seen  in  what 
way  an  emotion  so  violent  as  to  lead  to  fatal  acts,  yet 
connects  itself  with  virtuous  sentiments,  and  in  fact 
springs  from  them.  The  revenge  of  jealousy  seems 
to  the  injured  man  to  be  justified  at  once  by  the  best 
impulses  of  our  nature,  by  the  express  sanction  of  God, 
by  the  opinion  of  mankind,  and  by  the  formal  institutes 
of  society.  These  authorities,  or  some  of  them,  lend 
a  palliation  (deemed  almost  valid  by  the  common  feel- 
in<T  of  men)  even  to  deeds  of  a  murderous  kind  ;  and 
they  actually  avail  to  put  out  of  view  the  exaggera- 
tions which  self-love  has  added  to  the  sense  of  wrong. 
Thus  it  is  that  some,  who,  in  no  other  case  would  for  a 
moment  harbour  so  hateful  and  torturing  a  passion, 
yield  to  its  sway  when  thus  injured,  and  feel  as  if  uncon- 
demned  by  even  the  strictest  rules  of  virtue.  It  is  true 
that  principles  of  conduct  of  a  higher  kind  are  appli- 
cable, as  well  to  this,  as  to  all  other  instances  of  injury, 
and  are  fully  adequate  to  assuage  even  so  extreme  a 
vindictive  impulse.  But  whether  they  are  actually 
brought  to  bear  upon  it  or  not,  it  is  certain  that  the 
reven<^e  of  jealousy  aff()rds  evidence  that  the  elements 
of  the  moral  system  are  the  foundation  of  even  the 
most  fatal  of  the  malignant  passions,  and  in  their  most 
agravated  forms. 

Let  leave   here   be   taken  to  draw  an  inference 
which  suggests  itself,  bearing  perhaps  upon  the  future 


36 


FANATICISM. 


RISE    OF    THE    MALIGN    PASSIONS. 


37 


m 


destinies  of  man.  Does  not  then  the  history  of  human 
nature  declare  that  all  other  emotions  of  the  soul,  as 
well  as  every  inducement  of  interest  or  pride,  may 
give  way,  and  be  borne  down  by  the  sovereign  desire 
of  retribution  ?  Has  not  this  feeling  more  than  once 
impelled  a  father  to  consign  his  sons  to  the  sword  of 
public  justice  ?  Has  it  not  strengthened  the  arm  of  a 
man,  not  murderous  in  disposition,  to  drive  an  assas- 
sin's sword  into  the  heart  of  his  friend  ?  Has  it  not 
brought  together  an  armed  nation  around  the  walls  of 
a  devoted  city,  the  site  of  which,  after  being  soaked 
with  the  blood  of  men,  women,  and  babes,  was  to  be 
covered  with  perpetual  ruin  ?  Does  not  this  same 
robust  instinct  every  day  sustain  the  most  humane 
minds  in  discharging  the  sad  duty  of  conducting  a 
fellow-man  to  death  ?  We  see  too,  to  what  a  degree 
of  phrenzy  the  common  desire  of  retribution  may  be 
inflamed  by  the  suggestions  of  self-love.  Now  may  it 
not  be  conceived  of  that  an  equal  intensity  of  this 
emotion  might  be  obtained  by  the  means  of  some 
other  sentiment  than  self-love,  and  by  one  more  firm 
because  more  sound  than  the  selfish  principle  ?  If  so, 
then  we  have  under  our  actual  inspection  powers 
which,  in  a  future  life,  may  be  found  vigorous  enough 
to  carry  human  nature  through  scenes  or  through 
services  too  appalling  even  to  think  or  speak  of.  If, 
for  example,  it  were  asked — "  Is  it  credible  that  man, 
his  sensibilities  being  such  as  they  are,  should  take  his 
part,  even  as  spectator,  in  the  final  procedures  of  the 
Divine  Government?"  We  might  fairly  reply  by 
referring  to  certain  signal  instances  of  the  force  of  the 
vindictive  passions,  and  on  the  ground  of  such  facts 
assume  it  as  possible  that,  whoever  could  go  so  far, 
might  go  further  still.  And  this  hypothetic  inference 
would  not  be  invalidated  merely  because  revenge  is 
malign  and  evil :  for  although  it  be  so,  the  fulcrum  of 
its  power  is  nothing  else  than  the  unalterable  laws  of 
the  moral  world  ;  we  only  want  therefore  a  righteous 
motive  to  supplant  the  selfish  one,  and  then  an  equal, 


or  perhaps  a  much  greater  force,  would  be  displayed 
by  these  same  principles. 

If  it  be  allowable  to  advance  to  this  point,  we  then 
shall  need  only  one  more  idea  to  give  distinctness  to 
our  conception  of  the  retributive  processes  of  the 
future  world ; — and  it  is  this — That  the  infatuations  of 
self-love,  which,  in  the  present  state,  defend  every 
mind  from  the  application  to  itself  of  the  desire  of 
retribution — in  the  same  manner  as  the  principle  of 
animal  life  defends  the  vital  organs  of  a  body  from  the 
chemical  action  of  its  own  caustic  secretions — that 
these  infatuations,  we  say,  being  then  quite  dispersed, 
the  Instinct  of  Justice — perhaps  the  most  potent  of  all 
the  elements  of  the  spiritual  life,  shall  turn  inward 
upon  each  consciously  guilty  heart,  so  that  every  such 
heart  shall  become  the  prey  of  a  reflected  rage,  intense 
and  corrosive  as  the  most  virulent  revenge  !  Whoever 
is  now  hurrying  on  without  thought  of  consequences 
through  a  course  of  crimes,  would  do  well  to  imagine 
the  condition  of  a  being  left  without  relief  to  breathe 
upon  itself  the  flames  of  an  insatiable  hatred  ! 


SECTION  III. 


ALLIANCE    OF   THE    MALIGN    EMOTIONS   WITH    THE 


IMAGINATION. 


* 


If  nature  denies  to  the  irascible  passions  any  attendant 
sense  of  pleasure,  she  absolutely  refuses  them  also,  at 
least  in  their  simple  state,  the  power  of  awakening  the 
sympathy,  or  of  exciting  the  admiration  of  those  who 
witness  their  ebullition.  These  harsh  elements  of  the 
moral  system  must  be  taken  into  combination  with 
sentiments  of  a  different,  and  a  happier  order,  and 
must  almost  be  concealed  within  such  sentiments, 
before  they  can  assume  any  sort  of  beauty,  or  appear 

The  copiousness  of  our  subject  must  exclude  wbotever  does  not 
directly  conduce  to  its  illustration.  Otherwise  it  would  be  proper  here 
to  mention  those  complex  dispositions  which  spring  from  the  union  of 
the  malignant  passions  with  the  elements  of  individual  character.  The 
irascible  sentiment,  for  example,  takes  a  specific  form  from  the  pecu- 
liarities of  the  animal  structure.    Combined  with  conscious  muscular 
vigour,  and  a  sanguineous  temperament,  it  becomes  a  stormy  rage, 
and  constitutes  either  the  bully,  or  the  dread  devastator  of  kingdoms, 
as  circumstances  may  determine.     The  same  irascibility,  joined  with 
a  feeble  constitution,  begets  petulance,  in  those  various  forms  which 
depend  upon  the  particular  seat  of  debility  ;  namely,  w  hether  it  be 
the  nervous  system — the  arterial  system — the  mesenteric  glands — the 
liver,  or  the  stomach ;    each  of  which  imparts  a  peculiarity  to  the 
temper.  An  attentive  observer  of  the  early  developement  of  character 
will  also  leave  room,  in  any  theory  of  the  passions  he  may  construct, 
for  a  hitherto  unexplored  and  undefined  influence  of  conformation — 
ought  we  to  say  of  the  brain,  or  of  the  mind  ?     How  much  soever 
(from  various  motives)  any  might  wish  to  simplify  their  philosophy  of 
human  nature,  and  especially  to  exclude  from  it  certain  facts  which 
give  rise  to  painful  perplexities,  they  can  do  so  only  (as  we  think)  by 
refusing  to  turn  the  eye  toward  the  real  world. 

After  receiving  their  first  characteristic  from  the  physical  temper- 
ament, the  malign  emotions  next  ally  themselves  with  the  instinct  of 


ALLIANCE    WITH    THE    IMAGINATION. 


39 


in  splendour.  That  such  combinations  do  actually 
take  place,  and  in  conformity  too  with  the  intentions 
of  nature,  is  true ;  but  it  is  true  also,  that  by  the  very 
means  of  the  mixture,  the  worse  or  rancorous  ekment 
is  vastly  moderated  and  refined.  Let  it  be  granted, 
for  example,  that  wars  have  often  originated  in  the 
military  ambition  and  false  thirst  of  glory  to  which 
certain  gorgeous  sentiments  give  an  appearance  of 
virtue.  This  may  be  true,  but  can  we  easily  estimate 
the  degree  in  which  war  universally  has  been  softened 
and  relieved  in  its  attendant  horrors,  by  the  corrective 
influence  of  these  very  mixed  emotions,  extravagant 
find  false  as  ihey  are  ?  And  is  it  certain  that  there 
would  have  been  altogetl^er  less  blcKjdshed  on  earth, 
if  mere  sanguinary  rage,  and  if  the  cupidity  of  empire, 
had  been  left  to  work  their  ends  alone  ?  For  every 
thousand  victims  immolated  at  the  altar  of  martial 
pride,  have  not  ten  thousand  been  rescued  by  the 
noble  and  generous  usages  that  have  belonged  to  the 
system  of  warfare  among  all  civilized  nations?  Surely 
it  may  be  said  that,  unless  the  imaginative  sentiments 

self-love,  and  generate  either  a  sullen  and  obdurate  pride,  which 
makes  every  other  being  an  enemy,  as  a  supposed  impugner  of  rights 
and  honours  that  are  its  due;  or  else  (and  especially  as  combined 
with  derangement  of  the  hepatic  functions)  begets  a  rabid  jealousy 
or  reptile  envy — passions  of  the  most  wretched  natures!  Our  modern 
intellectual  science  yet  wants  a  term  to  serve  in  the  place  of  that 
theologico-metaphysic  one — the  will.  Analysis  must  be  pushed  a 
little  iiirther  than  it  has  gone  before  the  deficiency  can  be  well 
supplied.  Meanwhile  let  us  say  that  the  malign  passions  have  a 
characteristic  alliance  with  "  the  will  "—an  alliance  if  not  clearly 
to  be  distinguished  from  those  it  forms  with  self-love,  yet  distinct 
enough  to  arrest  attention.  As  a  single  example  we  might  name 
that  undefined,  and  not  easily  analysed,  cruelty  or  wanton  and  tran- 
quil deliiiht  in  torments,  bloodshed,  and  destruction,  which  has  given 
a  dread  notoriety  to  some  few  names  in  history.  In  such  cases  it  haa 
seemed  as  if  the  spontaneous  principle  would  prove  its  force  and  its 
independence  in  the  mode  that  should,  more  effectively  than  any 
other,  make  all  men  confess  it  to  be  free.  Instances  of  malignity 
meet  us  which  are  at  once  too  placid  to  be  charged  entire  upon  the 
irascible  emotions,  and  too  vague  to  be  accounted  for  by  the  induce- 
ments of  either  selfishness  or  pride,  and  which,  if  they  do  not  declare 
the  presence  of  a  determining  cause  that  has  no  immediate  dependence 
«?pon  ajesignable  motives,  must  remain  quite  unexplained. 


40 


FANATICISM. 


had  thus  blended  themselves  with  the  destructive 
passions,  the  ambition  of  men  would  have  been  like 
that  of  fiends,  and  the  human  family  must  long  ago 
have  suffered  extermination. 

Ideas  of  chivalrous  virtue  and  of  royal  magnanimity 
(ideas  directly  springing  from  the  imagination)  much 
more  than  any  genuine  sentiments  of  humanity,  have 
softened  the  ferocious  pride  of  mighty  warriors.  For 
though  it  may  be  true  that  some  sparks  or  rare  flashes 
of  mere  compassion  have,  once  and  again,  gleamed 
from  the  bosoms  of  such  men ;  yet  assuredly  if  good 
will  to  their  fellows  had  been  more  than  a  transient 
emotion,  the  sword  w^ould  never  have  been  their  toy. 
But  the  imaginative  sentiments  are  a  middle  power, 
in  the  hands  of  nature,  which,  because  they  may  be 
combined  more  readily  than  some  higher  principles 
with  the  gross  and  dark  ingredients  of  the  human 
mind,  serve  so  much  the  better  to  chasten  or  ame- 
Horate  what  cannot  be  quite  expelled.  Except  for 
emotions  of  this  order,  Alexander  would  have  been  as 
Tamerlane  ;  and  Tamerlane  as  the  Angel  of  Death. 

The  beneficial  provisions  of  Nature  are  especially 
to  be  observed  in  one  remarkable  fact — namely — 
That  the  alliance  of  the  malign  passions  with  the 
Imagination — an  alliance  from  which  the  former  draw 
both  their  mitigation,  and  an  extension  of  their  field, 
is  not  permitted  to  take  place  upon  the  narrow  ground 
of  self-love. — This  fact,  for  such  we  deem  it,  deserves 
to  be  distinctly  noticed. — 

Nothing  appears  too  great,  sometimes,  to  be  grasped 
by  the  conceits  of  self-importance ;  nothing  too  big 
for  the  stomach  of  vanity :  and  yet  it  is  found  that 
the  Imagination  refuses  to  yield  itself,  except  for  a 
moment,  or  in  a  very  limited  degree,  to  those  excite- 
ments that  are  drawn  from  the  solitary  bosom  of  the 
individual.  Man,  much  as  he  may  boast  himself,  is  by 
far  too  poor  at  home  to  maintain  the  expense  of  his 
own  splendid  conceptions  of  personal  greatness.  Not 
even  when  he  revolves  the  vast  idea  of  his  immortality. 


ALLIANCE    WITH    THE    IMAGINATION. 


41 


IS  he  able  to  accumulate  the  materials  of  sublifnity, 
without  looking  abroad  and  beyond  himself,  in  search 
of  objects  fitted  to  quicken  the  emotions  of  greatness 
and  dignity.  And  yet  surely  if  any  idea,  purely  selfish, 
had  power  to  call  up  and  sustain  such  emotions,  the 
idea  and  the  hope  of  endless  existence  might  do  so. 
But  whenever  we  meditate  upon  eternity,  and  think 
of  our  own  part  in  it,  we  dwell  much  more  upon  the 
scenes,  the  personages,  and  the  events  it  shall  connect 
us  with,  than  conceive  of  ourselves,  simply,  as  destined 
to  live  for  ever.  It  is  no  wonder  then  if  this  same 
rule  holds  good,  when  nothing  beyond  the  present 
scene  of  things  is  contemplated.  We  can  hardly  err 
in  assigning  the  reason  of  a  mechanism  so  remarkable. 
— If  human  nature  had  been  so  constituted  as  that  the 
imaginative  emotions  could  have  found  sufficient  range 
within  the  lone  precincts  of  the  soul,  and  if  there  had 
been  opened  to  every  one  (or  at  least  to  heroic  spirits) 
a  world  of  splendid  illusions — such  that  he  should  have 
had  no  need  to  look  abroad,  man  must  have  become, 
in  a  frightful  sense,  an  insulated  being;  nor  perhaps 
would  any  other  impulse,  drawn  either  from  his  wants, 
his  fears,  or  his  affections,  have  availed  to  connect  him 
firmly  and  permanently  with  his  fellows.  No  concep- 
tion much  more  appalling  can  be  entertained  than  that 
of  a  proud  demigod,  who,  finding  an  expanse  of  great- 
ness within  his  own  bosom — an  expanse  wherein  he 
could  take  ample  sweep,  and  incessantly  delight  him- 
self, should  start  off  from  the  populous  universe,  and 
dwell  content  in  the  centre  of  an  eternal  solitude  ! 

It  may  well  be  assumed  as  probable  that  the  Crea- 
tor has  granted  to  none  of  his  rational  family  the 
prerogative  of  so  fatal  a  sort  of  self-sufficiency.  As- 
suredly no  such  power  is  granted  to  man.  Even  those 
instances  that  may  seem  the  most  nearly  to  approach 
the  idea  just  now  mentioned,  do  in  fact,  when  accu- 
rately looked  at,  support  the  general  principle.  The 
man  of  the  wilderness,  for  example,  is  still  a  social 
being,  though  in  a  very  perverted  manner ;  and  we 

5* 


42 


FANATICISM. 


should  find  convincing  proof  of  the  fact  if  we  could 
only  listen  to  those  often  rehearsed  and  monotonous 
soliloquies  of  which  the  great  world — its  noise,  its 
vanity,  and  its  corruptions  are  the  theme.  Yes,  he 
congratulates  himself  anew  every  day  that  mankind 
is  far  remote  from  his  cell.  But  why  can  he  not  drop 
this  reference  altogether  1  Why  not  cease  to  think  of 
what  he  does  not  see — does  not  feel  ?  It  is  because 
the  gloomy  and  vexed  imagination  of  the  solitary — 
spite  of  itself,  can  find  none  but  the  faintest  excite- 
ments within  its  own  circle,  and  so  is  driven  to  roam 
abroad  in  search  of  stimulants.  The  world,  we  may 
be  assured,  is  as  indispensable  a  material  to  the  enthu- 
siasm of  the  anchoret,  as  it  is  to  that  of  the  busiest 
and  most  ambitious  votary  of  fame.  Only  let  some 
breathless  messenger — like  those  that  brought  tidings 
of  dismay  to  the  Arabian  patriarch,  reach  the  cavern 
of  the  hermit,  and  announce  to  him  that  his  love  of 
solitude  was  at  length  effectively  and  for  ever  sealed 
by  the  utter  extinction  of  the  human  race  : — solitude, 
from  that  instant,  would  not  merely  lose  all  its  fancied 
charms,  but  would  become  terrible  and  insufferable ; 
and  this  man  of  seclusion,  starting  like  a  maniac  from 
his  wilderness,  would  run  round  the  world,  in  search, 
if  haply  it  might  be,  of  some  straggling  survivors  ! 

Nor  is  it  a  few  foreign  materials  that  are  enough  to 
give  effect  to  the  alliance  of  the  imagination  with  the 
selfish  principle.  A  vigorous  enthusiasm  must  embrace 
a  broad  field.  Thus  patrician  pride,  and  the  arro- 
gance of  illustrious  blood  must  not  only  go  very  far 
back,  but  stretch  itself  very  widely  too,  before  it  can 
acquire  the  alacrity  or  the  force  that  distinguishes 
imaginative  sentiments.  The  pride  of  ancestry  is  a 
sullen  grace,  and  has  always  about  it  an  air  akin  to 
melancholy  or  depression.  The  enthusiasm  of  the 
very  meanest  member  of  a  warrior-clan  is  tenfold 
more  animate  than  that  of  the  head  of  a  house  laden 
with  the  decorations  of  heraldry.  In  the  former  in- 
stance the  imagination  grasps  the  compass  of  the  com- 


ALLIANCE    WITH    THE    IMAGINATION. 


43 


munity  of  which  the  individual  is  a  part :  in  the  latter, 
one  slender  line,  terminating  mself,  is  all  that  engages 
the  fancy ;  and  it  is  in  vam,  with  so  attenuated  an 
object  only  in  view,  that  pride  chides  itself  for  its  dull 
and  sluggish  movements.  The  Chief  must  think  of 
his  people  more  than  of  his  ancestry,  if  he  would,  on 
any  special  occasion,  gain  a  powerful  spring  of  action. 
Intruth  it  is  more  as  a  Chief  than  as  the  offspring  and 
representative  of  an  illustrious  stock,  that  the  energetic 
patrician  exults  in  his  distinctions,  and  achieves  deeds 
worthy  of  the  name  he  bears. 

Martial  enthusiasm  especially  demands  the  social 
elements  as  its  ground  : — and  here  we  reach  that  very 
compound  sentiment  which,  as  to  its  construction, 
stands  immediately  parallel  with  religious  rancour  and 
Fanaticism.  The  one  species  of  ardent  emotion  differs 
from  the  other  more  in  adjuncts  and  objects,  than  in 
innate  quality  or  character.  The  battle-fury  of  the 
Clan  is  only  self-love,  inflamed  by  hatred,  and  ex- 
panded, by  aid  of  the  imagination,  over  the  width  of 
the  community  with  which  the  individual  consorts. 
It  is  this  envenomed  enthusiasm  that  renders  the 
Chief  of  the  horde  (as  visible  centre  of  all  emotions) 
the  object  of  a  more  zealous  and  efficient  idolatry  than 
is  offered  to  the  god  of  the  horde :  and  it  is  this  that 
lends  a  measure  of  nobility  and  importance  to  even 
the  most  abject  son  of  the  tribe.  It  is  this  feeling 
which  knits  the  phalanx,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  when 
the  marshalled  family  advances  to  meet  its  ancient 
rival  in  the  field.  It  is  this  passion — the  enthusiasm  of 
gregarious  rage,  that  puts  contempt  upon  death,  gives 
a  brazen  firmness  to  the  nerves  when  torture  is  to  be 
endured,  seals  the  lips  in  impenetrable  secresy  when 
a  trust  has  to  be  preserved  ;  and,  in  a  word,  imparts 
to  human  nature  a  terrible  greatness  which  we  are 
compelled  at  once  to  abhor  and  to  admire. 

What  is  the  clangorous  music  of  barbarous  armies 
— ^what  the  rhapsodies  of  their  poetry,  but  the  modu- 
lated expressions  of  a  ferocity  which  the  imagination 


44 


FANATICISM. 


has  already  inflamed,  ennobled,  purified,  and  softened? 
Shall  the  frigid  philosopher  affirm  that  music  and  poe- 
try are  incentives  to  the  destructive  battle  passions? 
It*^  is  true  that  they  are  ;  yet  take  away  such  incen- 
tives, and  man  is  thrown  back  upon  his  mere  malig- 
nity, and  becomes  more  dreadful  to  his  species  than  a 
tiger.  • 

But  the  imagination  has  a  limit  beyond  which  it 
does  not  vigorously  act.  If  it  is  not,  as  we  have 
said,  to  be  stimulated  by  ideas  merely  selfish,  it  be- 
comes, on  the  other  hand,  languid,  or  ceases  to  exert 
an  efficient  influence  over  the  passions,  when  the  field 
of  its  exercise  is  very  much  extended.  The  men  of 
a  mighty  empire  that  embraces  many  and  various 
tribes,  know  little  of  the  intense  patriotism  or  of  the 
unconquerable  courage  that  distinguishes  the  heroes 
of  a  petty  clan,  or  small  community.  Self,  in  this 
case  cannot  retain  its  hold  of  an  aggregate  so  vast ; 
and  although  the  object  be  immensely  greater,  the 
motive  is  incomparably  less  than  in  the  other  instance. 
If  it  were  not  that  general  intelligence  and  a  better 
knowledge  of  the  science  of  government,  and  more 
skill  in  war,  ordinarily  come  in  with  extended  empire 
to  supply  the  place  of  personal  enthusiasm,  the  history 
of  nations  would  present  (in  a  perpetual  series)  what 
in  fact  it  has  often  presented — the  destruction  or  sub- 
jugation of  larger  social  bodies  by  the  smaller.  But 
thus  is  the  great  polity  of  mankind  balanced : — men 
possess  vastly  more  individual  motive,  and  more  spon- 
taneous power,  as  members  of  a  small  than  of  a  large 
community.  Meanwhile  the  greater  bodies  have  at 
command,  not  only  a  larger  sum  of  physical  force, 
but  more  knowledge,  and  principle,  and  order,  than 
often  exists  in  petty  states.  So  it  is  that  the  small 
and  the  great  coexist  upon  the  same  surface  ;  and 
that  the  course  of  conquest  has  been  alternate — in 
one  age  a  fiaction  has  broken  up  the  mass — in  an- 
other the  mass  has  absorbed  the  fractions. 

It  may  subserve  our  purpose  to  compare  still  more 


ALLIANCE    WITH   THE    IMAGINATION. 


45 


distinctly  the  steady  martial  temper  that  ordinarily 
belongs  to  the  armies  of  a  great  empire,  with  the 
ferocious  or  desperate  valour  that  distinguishes  the 
warriors  of  a  horde,  a  canton,  or  a  petty  republic. 
The  first  (extraordinary  occasions  excepted)  is  a  calm 
perfunctory  courage,  drawing  much  more  of  its  mo- 
tive from  usage,  opinion,  and  reasons  of  interest  or 
honour,  than  from  the  impulse  of  the  malignant  pas- 
sions. An  accomplished  general  of  such  an  army 
excludes  from  his  calculation  of  what  may  be  effected 
by  the  tremendous  engine  which  he  wields,  the  rage 
or  the  rancour  of  the  individual  combatants.  But,  on 
the  contrary,  this  very  malus  animus  constitutes  the 
principal  ingredient  in  the  bravery  of  the  clan ;  and 
it  does  so  because  the  human  mind  readily  adniits, 
under  these  circumstances,  of  an  exaltation,  which, 
in  the  other  case,  nothing  can  produce  short  of  the 
most  unusual  excitements.  The  irascible  passions  are 
not  to  be  raised  to  a  height  unless  self-love,  in  some 
form,  is  immediately  engaged  in  a  quarrel;  but  the 
vast  interests  of  an  empire,  and  the  immensity  of 
an  army  that  covers  a  province,  and  that  is  never 
seen  as  a  whole,  are  quite  disproportioned  to  the 
share  each  individual  may  have  in  the  public  weal. 
And  then,  as  every  one  of  the  sentiments  that  infuse 
generosity  into  the  practice  of  war,  draws  much  of 
its  force  from  the  imagination,  they  will  of  course 
exist  in  the  greatest  vigour  where  the  imagination  is 
the  most  wrought  upon.  There  are  however  very 
few  minds,  or  they  are  minds  only  of  the  largest 
capacity  and  of  the  finest  conformation,  that  can 
derive  the  stimulants  of  a  vigorous  enthusiasm  from 
the  idea  of  an  extensive  empire.  On  the  other  hand, 
few  minds  are  so  insensitive  as  not  to  entertain  a 
degree  of  such  enthusiasm  when  the  various  emotions 
of  patriotism  and  civil  affection  spring  up  from  a 
space  that  may  all  be  seen  at  once  from  the  summit 
of  a  hill. 
And  it  is  on  the  very  same  principle,  as  w^e  shall 


i 


46 


FANATICISM. 


ALLIANCE    WITH    THE    IMAGINATION. 


47 


find,  that  Fanaticism  must  attach  itself  always  to  a 
limited  order  of  things,  and  is  necessarily  factious* 
What  is  fanaticism  but  rancorous  Enthusiasm  ?  And 
inasmuch  as  enthusiasm  springs  from  the  imagination, 
it  must  embrace  a  circle  just  wide  enough  to  give  it 
powerful  impulse,  and  yet  not  too  wide  to  exhaust  its 
forces. 

The  valour  of  the  clan  not  only  stands  parallel 
with  religious  fanaticism ;  that  is  to  say,  has  one  and 
the  same  Natural  History,  but  is  most  often  found  in 
combination  with  it.  The  two  classes  of  passion  are 
so  nearly  allied  that  the  one  readily  follows  upon  the 
other.  The  vehement  patriotism  of  the  horde  or  little 
free  state  puts  ttie  minds  of  men  into  a  ferment  that 
will  not  long  fail  to  introduce  the  stirring  conceptions 
of  Invisible  Power :  and  when  so  brought  in,  the  two 
ingredients  become  intimately  blended : — the  civil  and 
the  religious  frenzy  form  a  compact  sentiment  of  such 
vivacity  as  to  carry  human  nature — if  the  solecism 
might  be  admitted,  above  and  beyond  the  range  of 
human  agency.  While  the  gods  have  been  hovering 
over  a  field  of  carnage  the  intrepidity  of  men  has 
risen  to  the  audacity  of  immortals  ;  and  their  feroci- 
ty has  resembled  the  raore  of  fiends ! 

Althouffh  it  may  be  true,  and  we  confidently  assume 
k  to  be  so,  that  a  beneficial  mitigation  and  refinement 
of  the  grosser  elements  of  our  nature  accrues  from 
their  alliance  with  imaginative  sentiments,  yet  it  does 
by  no  means  follow  that  such  sentiments  ought  to 
supplant  the  genuine  principles  of  morals,  wherever 
these  may  take  effect.  No  one  would  maintain  such 
a  doctrine  in  the  abstract  ;  nevertheless,  when  we 
turn  to  the  real  world,  we  find  that  true  virtue  and 
piety  have  always  had  to  contend  (and  often  with 
little  success)  against  those  splendid  forms  of  excel- 
lence which  are  but  vice  in  disguise,  and  which  owe 
all  their  specious  graces  and  fair  colours  to  the  admix- 
ture we  are  speaking  of. 

The  unalterable  maxims  of  rectitude,  purity  and 


iTjercy,  such  as  we  find  them  in  the  Scriptures,  being 
well  understood  and  firmly  instated  in  their  just  author- 
ity, then  indeed  we  may  allow  the    imagination    to 
take  the  part  that  belongs  to  it  as  the  general  cement — 
or  as  the  common  medium  of  the  various  ingredients 
of  animal,  social,  and  intellectual  life.      There  meets 
us  however  a  special  difficulty  in  assigning  its  proper 
oflSce  to  this  faculty  when  it  comes  to  mingle  itself,  as 
it  readily  does,  with  the  malign  emotions  ;  and  this 
embarrassment  is  much  enhanced  by  those  modes  of 
feeling   which  are   found  to    have   got  possession  of 
every  lettered  people.     How  large  a  portion  of  the 
pleasurable   excitement   that  attends   the   reading  of 
history   springs   directly  from  the   recommendations 
which  vindictive  or  inexorable  passions  borrow  from 
imaginative  emotions  !     Then  in  the  world  of  fiction — 
dramatic  or  poetic,  perhaps  half  of  the  power  which 
such  creations  possess  over  the  mind  is  attributable  to 
the  same  cause.      The   moralist   and   the   preacher 
(especially  when   he   has  to   do  with    the   educated 
classes)  and  if  he  would  discharge  his  office  without 
showing  favour  to  inveterate  prejudices,  finds  that  he 
has  to  loosen  many  of  the  most  cherished  associations 
of  sentiment,  and  must  denounce  as  purely  evil  very 
much  that  is  passionately  admired,  and  will  be  eagerly 
emulated. 

To  affirm  in  absolute  and  exclusive  terms  that  the 
ii-ascible  passions  ought  in  no  case  to  be  allowed  to 
blend  with  the  imagination,  so  as  may  fit  them  to  en- 
kindle emotions  of  pleasure  or  admiration,  would  be 
going  very  far,  and  might  bring  an  argument  into 
serious  embarrassments.  We  stop  short  then  of  so 
stern  a  conclusion,  and  shall  urge  only  this  more  gene- 
ral rule,  that  the  principles  of  benevolence,  and  of 
forbearance,  and  meekness,  and  gentleness,  and  humil- 
ity, as  taught  in  the  discourses  of  Christ,  and  as  en- 
forced by  his  apostles,  should  in  all  instances  to  which 
they  are  clearly  applicable,  be  carried  fully  home, 
notwithstanding  the  repugnance  of  certain  modes  of 


48 


FANATICISM. 


ALLIANCE  WITH    THE    IMAGINATION. 


49 


feeling  commonly  honoured  as  generous  and  noble ; 
and  moreover  that  every  one  professing  obedience  to 
the  Gospel  should  exercise  an  especial  vigilance  to- 
ward that  entire  class  of  sentiments  over  which  pro- 
fane history,  romance,  poetry,  and  the  drama,  have 
shed  a  glory. 

The  time  perhaps  shall  come — nay  we  devoutly 
expect  it,  when  by  the  universal  diffusion  of  a  sound 
and  pure  Ethics — the  ethics  of  the  Bible,  no  room 
shall  be  left,  no  need  shall  be  felt  for  the  chastening 
influence  which  hitherto  the  imagination  has  exerted 
over  the  ferocious  dispositions  of  mankind.  Yes,  an  age 
shall  come,  when  the  gods  and  heroes  of  history  shall 
hasten  to  those  shades  of  everlasting  forgetfulness 
which  have  closed  upon  their  patrons — the  gods  and 
heroes  of  mythology.  In  the  same  day  the  charm  of 
fiction  shall  be  dissolved,  and  the  gaudiness  of  false 
sentiment,  in  all  kinds,  shall  be  looked  at  with  the  cold 
contempt  which  now  we  bestow  upon  the  follies  of 
false  worship.  Then  too,  the  romance  (as  well  prac- 
tical as  literary)  of  this  nineteenth  century  shall  be 
bound  in  the  bundle  that  contains  the  decayed  and 
childish  fables  of  olden  times,  and  both  together  shall 
be  consigned,  without  heed  or  regret,  to  sheer  ob- 
hvion. 

The  slow  but  sure  progress  of  society  brings  with 
it  many  substitutions  of  this  sort,  in  which  a  less  ra- 
tional principle  of  action  gives  way  to  one  that  is  more 
so.  At  the  present  moment  we  occupy  just  that  mid- 
way position  which,  while  it  allows  us  to  gaze  with 
idle  curiosity  upon  the  blood-stained  stage  of  chivalry, 
and  upon  the  deluged  field  of  lawless  ambition,  quite 
forbids  that  any  such  modes  of  conduct  should  find  a 
place  among  us  as  living  realities.  We  are  too  wise 
and  virtuous  to  give  indulgence  to  that  to  which  we 
largely  give  our  admiration !  May  not  yet  another 
step  or  two  be  taken  on  the  path  of  reason,  and  then 
we  shall  cease  even  to  admire  that  which  we  have 
long  ceased  to  tolerate  ? 


So  already  it  has  actually  happened  in  relation  to 
those   malign    and   sanguinary   religious  excitements 
which  a  few  centuries  ago  kindled  entire  communities, 
and  inflamed  kings  and  mendicants,  nobles  and  serfs, 
priests  and  wantons,  abstracted  monks  and  the  disso- 
lute  rabble,   with  one   purpose  of  sacred   ambition. 
Though  we  now  peruse  with  wonder  and  curiosity 
the  story  (for  example)  of  the  Crusades,  there  are 
very  few  readers  in  the  present  day — perhaps  hardly 
one,  who  can  rouse  up  a  sympathy  with  that  vehement 
feeling  which  was  the  paramount  motive  of  the  enter- 
prise.    Only  let  us  strip  the  history  of  the  crusades  of 
all  its  elements  of  martial  and  secular  glory,  and  the 
simple  religious  residue — the  proper  fanaticism  of  the 
drama,  would  scarcely  touch  any  modern  imagination. 
How  much  more  is  this  true  of  those  horrid  crusades 
of  which  the  internal  enemies  of  the  Church  of  Rome 
have,  at  diflferent  times,  been  the  victims  !     All  feeling 
of  alliance  with  the  illusions  that  gave  impulse  to  such 
abhorrent    intestine   wars   has    (do   we   assume    too 
much  ?)  utterly  passed  away,  nor  could  by  any  means 
be  rekindled ;  and  the  two  emotions  of  pity  for  the 
suflferers,   and   of   detestation   of  the   actors    in    the 
scenes  of  fratricide,  are  the  only  sentiments  which  the 
narrative  can  call  up.     Yet  there  was  a  time  when 
men — born  of  women,  and  fashioned  like  ourselves — 
yes,  and  men  softened  by  education,  and  not  unin- 
formed by  Christianity — saints  and  doctors,  delicate 
recluses,  and  unearthly  contemplatists — men  who  slept 
only  three  hours  in  the  twenty-four,  and  prayed  six 
or  ten — when  such  men  gave  all  the  passion  of  their 
souls,  and  all  the  eloquence  of  their  lips,  to  the  work 
of  hunting  thousands  of  their  fellows,  innocent  and 
helpless,  into  the  greedy  fires  of  the  Church  ! 

Thus  it  appears  that  the  very  order  of  sentiment 
which  once  was  allowed  and  lauded  as  magnanimous, 
and  even  divine,  we  have  learned  to  regard  as  either 
purely  ridiculous,  or  as  abominable.  A  like  reproba- 
tion inevitably  awaits  (if  mankind  is  really  advancing 

6 


f 


50 


FANATICISM, 


on  the  road  of  virtue)  every  mode  of  feeling  which, 
being  essentially  malevolent,  draws  specious  colours 
from  the  imagination.  That  which  is  true  and  just,  in 
conduct  and  character,  must  at  length  supplant  what- 
ever, if  stripped  of  its  decorations,  is  loathsome  or 
absurd.  So  certainly  as  the  calm  reason  of  Christian- 
ity spreads  ilseli  through  the  world,  will  the  ground  fall 
in  beneath  the  gorgeous  but  tottering  edifice  of  spurious 
imaginative  virtue.  Let  but  the  irresistible  process  go 
on  a  little  further,  and  it  will  become  as  impracticable 
to  uphold  in  credit  the  still  extant  opinion  which  ad- 
mils  of  honor  without  justice  or  purity,  and  of  mag- 
nanimity without  benevolence,  and  of  that  thirst  of 
glory  which  is  sheer  selfishness,  as  it  would  be  now, 
after  the  mechanic  arts  have  reached  an  unthought-of 
perfection,  to  keep  in  use  the  cumbrous  hand-machines 
of  the  last  century. 

Much  of  the  conventional  law,    and  many  of  the 
usages  of  private  life,  and  especially  the  unwritten 
code  of  international  policy,  have  yet  to  undergo  a 
revolution  as  great  perhaps  as  that  which  makes  the 
xiifference  between   the  twelfth   and   the   eighteenth 
centuries.     All  the  vices,  and  all  the  talents,  and  all 
the  institutions  interested  in  the  preservation  of  cor- 
rupt practices  may  oppose  the  advance  of  this  ren- 
ovation ;  but  nothing  short  of  the  overthrow  of  Chris- 
tianity and  of  civilization  can  arrest  its  progress.    Na- 
ture (we  use  the  word  in  a  religious  sense)  Nature 
is  here  at  work  with  her  noiseless  mighty  hand  ;  what- 
ever is  spurious  is  marked  already  for  oblivion,  and 
moves  on  to  its  home. 


■I  J' 


SECTION  IV. 


FANATICISM  THE  OFFSPRING  OF  ENTHUSIASM  ',  OR  COM- 
BINATION OF  THE  MALIGN  EMOTIONS  WITH  SPURI- 
OUS   RELIGOUS    SENTIMENTS. 

The  Imagination,  when  inflamed  by  anger,  or  enven- 
omed by  hatred,  exerts  a  much  more  decisive  influ- 
ence over  the  active  principles  and  the  character  of 
men  than  otherwise  ever  belongs  to  it.  Or  we  might 
rather  say,  that  by  the  aid  of  those  strenuous  elements 
of  our  nature,  imaginative  sentiments  extend  their  em- 
pire, and  bring  under  their  sway  minds  of  a  robust 
order  which  would  never  have  yielded  to  any  softer 
impulses.  A  thousand  fanatics  have  run  their  course 
of  mischief  who  would  have  spurned  religious  mo- 
tives altogether  in  the  simple  form  of  enthusiasm.  Ran- 
cour has  been  the  true  reason  of  their  religion,  and  its 

rule  and  end.  . 

And  as  the  empire  of  spurious  religious  sentiments 
is  greatly  extended  by  their  alliance  with  the  malig- 
nant passions,  so  do  they  acquire,  from  the  same  quar- 
ter, far  more  energy  than  they  could  boast  in  their  sim- 
ple state.  A  malign  Enthusiasm  carries  human  nature 
to  the  very  extreme  boundaries  of  emotion  possible  to 
man  •  nothing  which  the  heart  may  know  lies  beyond 
the  circle  occupied  by  fanatical  extravagance  ;  and 
this  circle  of  vehement  sentiments  includes  many  enor- 
mities of  feeling  or  of  conduct  of  which  scarcely  a 
sample  is  to  be  found  in  a  country  and  in  an  age  like 
our  own. 


52 


FANATICISM, 


THE  OFFSPRING  OF  ENTHUSIASM. 


53 


In  truth,  little  more  than  the  trite  surface  of  human 
nature  meets  the  eye  among  a  people  like  ourselves. 
Our  theories  and  systems  of  morals  hardly  take  ac- 
count of  upper  and  lower  instances,  while  they  are 
busied  with  what  may  be  found  in  the  mid  region  of 
mixed  and  moderate  passions.  Living  as  we  do  under 
the  meridian  of  caution  and  mediocrity,  history  when 
most  faithful,  often  sounds  like  romance  ;  or  even  if 
we  give  credit  to  its  narrations,  we  regard  its  lessons 
as  of  little  practical  significance  now,  inasmuch  as 
whatever  is  virulent  or  terrible  has  fallen,  we  think, 
from  the  usage  of  mankind. 

It  has  become  somewhat  difficult  even  to  place  our- 
selves so  far  in  sympathy  with  extreme  emotions  as  is 
necessary  for  understanding  them.  In  all  things  what 
is  profound  has  given  way  to  what  is  familiar  ;  or  what 
once  was  fact  is  now  thought  of  only  as  fit  subject  for 
fiction.  Men  of  the  present  age  are  care-worn  much 
oftener  than  melancholy  ;  merry  or  jovial,  rather  than 
joyous  ;  sagacious  or  ingenious,  more  than  meditative ; 
and  so  keenly  attached  to  the  passing  moment,  as  to 
tlirow  up  their  interest  as  well  in  the  past  as  in  the 
foture.  Order,  custom,  and  utility,  set  bounds — and 
very  narrow  bounds  to  all  modes  of  conduct:  the  spirit 
of  raillery  quenches,  or  imposes  a  disguise  upon  what- 
ever emotions  are  not  trivial.  It  is  not  indeed  to  be 
regretted  that  the  firm  constitutions  of  society,  in  mod- 
ern times,  and  its  established  notions,  repress  or  con- 
fine so  much  as  they  do  the  profounder  and  more  vir- 
ulent impulses  of  the  soul.  But  the  fact  of  this  change 
and  improvement  should  always  be  kept  in  mind  when 
the  power  of  such  emotions  is  to  be  calculated,  or 
when  conjecture  is  employed  upon  the  possible  events 
of  another  age.  A  free  and  equal  government  (and 
this  is  its  praise)  supersedes,  nay  almost  extinguishes  the 
stronger  passions.  Private  life,  happily  is  too  secure, 
and  public  affairs  are  too  well  settled,  to  afford  those 
sudden  and  extraordinary  excitements  which  awaken 
the  latent  energies  of  men.     It  is  despotism,  plunging 


a  ruthless  hand  into  the  bosom  of  domestic  peace — it  is 
ambition,  immolating  a  thousand  victims  in  an  hour — 
it  is  popular  fury,  led  on  or  repulsed  by  a  single  arm, 
that  display  the  expansive  force  of  the  human  mmd 
when  urged  to  the  utmost  excess  of  feeling. 

Even  those  visible  and  natural  excitements  of  the 
imagination,  whence  the  deeper  passions  are  wont  to 
draw  much  of  their  vigour,  are  denied  to  us.    England 
has  all  the  beauties  of  picture ;  but  they  are  beauties 
in  miniature.     What  w^e  look  upon  around  us  is  the 
scenery  of  poetry,  rather  than  of  tragedy.     And  it  is 
a  fact,  if  not  constant,  yet  ordinary,  that  those  por- 
tentous corruscations  of  the  passions  which  ally  them- 
selves readily  v^ith  the  imagination,  have  burst  out 
from  the  thick  gloom  of  a  frowning  Nature.     Such 
excesses  have  chiefly  appeared  where  awful  scenery, 
or  extreme  violence's  of  climate  have  seemed  well  to 
comport    with    egregious    sentiments    and    frenzied 
actions.     Man  (that  is  to  say  when  once  effectively 
roused    to  action)   acts  quite  another  part  than    we 
think  of,  if  his  lot  be  to  roam  through  howling  soli- 
tudes— to  traverse  boundless  and  burning  sands — to 
hide  himself  among  cloud-covered  precipices — to  gaze 
upon  the  unalterable  and  intolerable  splendour  of  the 
sky; — if  often  he  stand  aghast  amid  the  earthquake  or 
the  hurricane,  or  be  overtaken   by  sultry  tempests, 
fraught  with  suffocation.     It  is  in  the  heart  of  forests 
that  are  the  ancient  domain  of  enormous  reptiles,  or 
of  savage  beasts — it  is  where  horror  and  death  lurk  in 
the  way,  that  the  darker  passions  reach  their  fullest 
growth,  and  are  to  be  seen  in  their  proper  force.     All 
the  principal  or  most  characteristic  forms  of  fanaticism 
have  had  their  birth  beneath  sultry  skies,  and  have 
thence  spread  into  temperate  climates  by  transporta- 
tion, or  infection. 

No  such  rule  must  be  assumed  as  absolute—few 
rules  that  relate  to  human  nature  are  so,  but  it  is  one 
as  uniform  as  most,  that  where  neither  reason,  nor  the 
genuine  affections,  but  imagination,  acts  as  the  prime 

6* 


f 


54 


FANATICISM, 


THE    OFFSPRINO    OF    ENTHUSIASM. 


55 


impulse  in  religion,  the  malign  emotions  are  found  in 
close  attendance,  and  seldom  fail  to  convert  spurious 
piety  into  an  energetic  rancour.  Then  again  this  ran- 
cour reacts  upon  the  enthusiasm  whence  it  sprang ; — 
the  child  schools  the  parent  (an  inverted  order  of  things 
not  unusual  where  the  progeny  has  much  more  vigour 
than  the  parent).  Enthusiasm,  when  it  has  come  to 
sustain  Fanaticism,  is  far  more  darkly  coloured,  is 
more  profound,  more  mysterious,  than  the  illusory 
piety  that  has  no  such  load  upon  its  shoulders.  Things 
bright  and  fair,  although  unreal,  are  the  chosen  objects 
of  this;  but  the  other  asks  whatever  is  terrific  and 
destructive.  This  sort  of  transmutation  of  sentiments, 
which  happens  when  the  enthusiast  becomes  the 
fanatic — when  malignity  is  shed  upon  illusion,  much 
resembles  what  often  takes  place  in  feverish  sleep ; — 
who  has  not  seen  in  his  dreams,  splendid  and  smiling 
pageants,  gradually  relinquishing  the  brilliant  colours 
ihey  first  showed,  just  as  if  the  summer's  sun  were 
sinking  from  the  skies; — but  presently  a  murky 
glimmer  half  reveals  menacing  forms ;  and  in  the 
next  moment  some  horrid  and  gory  phantom  starts 
forth,  and  becomes  master  of  the  scene  ! 

The  false  religion  then  of  the  Fanatic  includes 
elements  not  at  all  known  to  the  mere  Enthusiast; 
and  before  we  descend  to  the  particular  instances  it 
will  be  advantageous  to  ascertain  the  general  (if  not 
universal)  characteristics  of  the  spurious  malign  Re- 
ligion w^hich  animates  his  bosom ; — they  may  be 
reduced  to  three  capital  articles;  namely,  1st.  A 
deference  to  Malignant  Invisible  Power  ;  2d.  The 
natural  consequence  of  such  a  deference — rancorous 
contempt  or  detestation  of  the  mass  of  mankind,  as 
religiously  cursed  and  abominable ;  and  3d.  The 
belief  of  corrupt  favouritism  on  the  part  of  Invisible 
Powers,  towards  a  sect  or  particular  class  of  men ; 
and  this  partiality  is  the  antithesis  of  the  relentless 
tyranny  of  which  all  other  men  are  the  objects. 

I.    We   have  named — ^A  Deference,  or  religious 


regard  to  Malign  Invisible  Powers,  whether  Su- 
preme or  Subordinate,  which  will  be  found  to  enter, 
as  primary  ingredient,  into  every  form  of  Fanaticism, 
ancient  and   modern,   and   may   well    be  called   its 

Germ.  «,        ,       ,  r 

To  believe  that  evil   has  affected   other  races  ot 

rational  agents  besides  the  human,  and  that  such 
depraved  and  malignant  beings,  though  unseen, 
infringe  in  some  manner  upon  the  human  system — is 
one  thing:  and  it  is  a  belief  which  reason  admits,  and 
revelatio'n  confirms ;  but  either  to  impute  in  any  sort, 
malignancy  to  the  Supreme  Power,  or  to  make  sub- 
ordinate malignant  powers  the  objects  of  deference, 
direct  or  indirect,  or  to  grant  to  their  agency  the 
prime  place  among  religious  notions,  is  quite  another 
thing;  and  it  is  a  perversion  of  this  sort,  more  or  less 
gros^,  and  more  or  less  apparent,  which  imparts  force 
to  every  species  of  rancorous  religious  sentiment. 

On  a  field  like  this  the  imagination,  if  it  be  troubled 
by  a  gloomy  temper,  or  made  turgid  by  fierce  pas- 
sions, and   especially   if  it    be   saddened   by   actual 
sufferings,  will  never  want  scope  or  fail  of  excite- 
ments.    Nothing  less  in  fact  than  the  hope  which  it 
is  the  prerogative  of  true  religion  to  impart  can  bar 
the  entrance  of  the  mind  into  this  realm  of  fear— a 
realm  upon  which  mankind  has  in  every  age  eagerly 
sought   to    make  incursions.     If  we   are   to   employ 
phrases  in  accordance  with  the  facts  which  history 
presents,  we  are  bound  to  afl^rm  that  the  Natural 
Religion  of  man,  is  the  fear  and  service  of  Malig- 
nant Powers.     Gloomy  superstition  springs  up  mvol- 
untarily  in  the  human  mind,  depraved  as  it  is,  and 
exposed  to  so  many  pains,  wants,  and  cruelties,  and 
liable  withal  to  death.     Man  does  not  become  reli- 
gious  by  mere  force  of  gratitude :  the  unnoticed  bene- 
fits of  every  hour  lead  him  not  to  the  shnne  of  the 
Supreme  Beneficence :  it  is  danger  and  sorrow  that 
drive  him  to  the  altar.     The  necessities  and  miseries 
of  the  animal  frame— the  confusion  and  misrule  that 


56 


FANATICISM, 


prevail  in  the  social  system — the  stifled  sense  of  guilt 
in  every  bosom,  and  the  boding  of  future  punishment, 
as  well  as  the  hatreds  which  woe  and  oppression 
cherish,  are  active  and  pungent  elements,  working  in 
the  soul  with  incomparably  more  force  than  belongs 
to  the  mild  sentiments  that  may  be  engendered  either 
by  the  spectacle  of  the  order  and  beauty  of  the 
material  world,  or  by  the  fruition  of  the  common 
goods  of  life. 

The  theism  of  philosophers  has  never  availed  to 
counteract  that  natural  tendency  which  draws  on 
mankind  to  the  worship  of  Evil  Powers.  Neither  the 
ancient  nor  the  modern  systems  of  abstract  philoso- 
phy have  taken  any  strong  hold  of  the  spirits  of  men ; 
and  the  failure  has  happened,  not  so  much  because 
such  systems  were  too  refined  or  too  abstruse  for 
vulgar  apprehension  ;  but  because  they  have  not 
made  provision  for  the  actual  position  of  man  in  the 
present  state.  Sages  have  announced  the  Divine 
perfections,  and  there  have  stopped  ; — but  to  bring 
these  perfections  to  bear,  in  any  mode  of  effective 
relief,  upon  the  guilt  and  sorrows  of  mankind,  was  a 
problem  quite  beyond  their  power.  Let  it  be  granted 
that  philosophical  theism  may  be  true  in  some  far 
distant  upper  sphere  ;  but  on  Earth  it  serves  to 
explain  nothing;  it  assuages  no  trouble  ;  it  is  no  more 
applicable  to  the  real  occasions  of  life,  than  are  the 
dreams  of  the  poet.  The  sage  and  the  poet  must  alike 
be  looked  upon  as  mere  men  of  idleness  and  specula- 
tion ; — their  theories  of  the  world — the  one  abstruse, 
the  other  gorgeous,  ask  to  be  carried  back  many  ages, 
or  carried  forward  as  many,  before  space  can  be 
found  where  they  may  be  lodged.  Stern  experience 
indignantly  or  contemptuously  rejects  both. 

Of  all  the  popular  modes  which  have  been  devised 
for  counteracting  the  tendency  of  mankind  to  malign 
superstition,  that  embodied  in  the  mythology  of  the 
people  of  Greece  may  claim  to  have  been  the  most 
successful,  as  well  as  the  most  rich  and  splendid. 


*i 


THE    OFFSPRING    OF    ENTHUSIASM. 


57 


This  system  of  worship — not  so  much  the  work  of 
design,  as  the  spontaneous   product  of  the  national 
mind,  avoided  provoking  the  resentment  of  tortured 
hearts   by  giving  a  direct    contradiction   to   gloomy 
surmises'; — it   did    not  interdict  sanguinary  supersti- 
tion;   but  rather  occupied   beforehand  the  elements 
of  terror,  and  worked  them  up  as  the  materials  of 
its    supernatural    machinery.     No  example    can    be 
adduced,  from  any  other  quarter,  of  so  skilful  a  sub- 
stitution of  the  sublime  and  beautiful  fbr  the  terrific. 
Delicious  intellectual  voluptuousness,  with  poetry,  and 
the  drama,  with  painting,  architecture  and  sculpture, 
as  its  ministers,  got  the  start  of  the  violent  passions, 
and  of  natural  terrors ;  and  without  insulting  human 
woe  (as  philosophy  does)  and  without  giving  license 
to  ferocious  impulses,  as  was  done  by  the  oriental 
superstitions,  it  soothed   every  harsh  feeling  by  the 
insinuating    fascinations   of   melody,   symmetry,   and 
colour.      The    Grecian    imaginative   theology,    after 
having  preoccupied  the  human  mind  by  its  exquisite 
forms  of  ideal,  or  visible  and  tangible  beauty,  gave 
audience  to  the  more  fierce  and  malign  emotions  in 
their  subdued  and  tranquil  hour :  or  it  brought  them 
over  unconsciously  to  such  a  mood. — Orpheus  was 
immortal  in  Greece,  and  always  present  in  the  tern- 
pies  to  lull  the  angry  or  destructive  desires  of  the 
rude  populace.     The  lion  and  the  leopard  are  seen 
stalking  along,  if  sullen,  yet  pacified,  in  the  proces- 
sions  of  revelry  and  jov. 

The  Malignant  Povvers  had  indeed  their  titles  and 
images,  and  temples  in  Greece;  but  their  tyranny  was 
not  permitted  ;  and  in  accordance  with  this  proscrip- 
tion the  priestly  order  was  denied  the  means  of 
extending  its  power.  Nothing  dark  or  cruel  was 
suffered,  in  a  crude  form,  to  irritate  the  minds  of  the 
people.  Although  Fanaticism  could  not  be  absolutely 
excluded  from  the  land  of  beauty,  it  received  there 
more  effectual  modifications  than  any  where  else — 
the  very  circle  of  pure  and  true  religion  excepted. 


58 


FANATICISM, 


Hesiod,  Pindar,  Homer,  iEschylus,  Sophocles,  Apelle^, 
Phidias,  were  in  fact,  though  not  in  form,  the  Priests 
of  the  Grecian  worship,  and  the  doctors  of  its  theol- 
ogy; and  if  they  did  not  professedly  teach  rehgious 
truth,  they  yet  disarmed  religious  error  very  much  of 
its  evil  influence. 

Historical  justice  demands  that  when  the  absurdi- 
ties and  the  impurity  of  the  Grecian  polytheism  (both 
indeed  very  gross)  are  spoken  of,  its  extaordinary  influ- 
ence in  allaying  the  violence  of  fanaticism  should  be 
distinctly  admitted.  On  this  ground  no  other  supersti- 
tion of  the  nations  can  at  all  come  into  comparison 
with  it.  The  same  justice  should  more-over  lead  us  to 
acknowledge — to  acknowledge  with  bitter  grief,  that, 
in  later  times,  the  corruptions  of  the  Jewish  and  Chris- 
tian systems  imparted  a  virulence  to  facaticism,  such 
as  the  contemporaries  of  Socrates  and  Plato  would 
have  shuddered  to  think  of.  The  arrogant  misanthro- 
py of  the  Jew — the  relentless  intolerance  of  the  Mo- 
hammedan, and  most  of  all,  the  insatiate  bigotry  of 
the  Papist,  were  forms  of  evil,  new  to  the  world  when 
they  severally  appeared,  and  gave  an  appearance  of 
reason  to  the  calumnies  of  philosophers,  who  affirmed 
that  the  western  nations  had  discarded  the  ancient 
mythology  to  their  cost, 

n.  The  conceptions  we  form  of  the  Divine  Bein^, 
and  our  feelings  toward  our  fellow  men,  are  always 
dependent  one  upon  the  other.  As  well  by  natural 
influence,  as  by  mere  contagion  of  sentiments,  a  belief 
in  malignant  divinities,  or  an  imputation  of  malevolence 
in  any  form,  to  the  Supreme  Being,  brings  with  it  the 
supposition  that  the  mass  of  mankind,  or  at  least  that 
certain  portions  of  mankind,  are  the  objects  and  the 
victims  of  Divine  malediction  ;  and  therefore  may  be, 
or  ought  to  be,  contemned,  tormented,  destroyed. 

Is  it  theory  only,  or  is  it  matter  of  history,  that 
Malign  Theology  has  invariably  been  followed  at 
hand  by  intolerance,  execrations,  cruelties  ?  Or  which- 
ever may  have  been  precursor,  the  other  has  quickly 


THE    OFFSPRING    OF    ENTHUSIASM. 


59 


come  up.     Nor  is  a  simple  association  all,  for  the  style 
of  the  theoretic  error  will  be  found  to  have  comported 
with  the  character  of  the  practical  mischief.     Thus  it 
is  that,  as  the  belief  in  malevolent  divinities,  or  the  im- 
putation of  malevolence  (under  any  disguise  of  abstract 
terms)  to  the  Supreme  Being,  contradicts  or  distorts 
the  genuine  notion  of  sovereign  and  impartial  Justice, 
to  the  tribunal  of  which  nothing  is  amenable  but  crime, 
so  the  correspondent  feeling  towards  mankind  which 
such  a  belief  engenders,  is  not  that  of  righteous  dis- 
approbation on  the  score  of  moral  offences ;  but  that 
of  detestation  or  abhorrence,  on  the  mysterious  ground 
of  ecclesiastical  impurity.     It  is  not  as  the  transgres- 
sors of  a  holy  law,  but  as  the  reprobate  of  Heaven, 
that  men  in  particular,  or  that  nations  are  to  be  shut 
out  from  the  circle  of  our  charities.     The  multitude 
or  herd  of  mankind  is  spurned  as  abominable,  much 
more  than  as  guilty.     And  when  once  so  grievous  a 
perversion  of  feeling  has  taken  place,  then  the  whole 
of  the  force  which  belongs  to  our  instinctive  notions 
of  retribution,  or  to  our  acquired  belief  of  future  judg- 
ment, is  thrown  into  the  channel  of  our  sectarian  aver- 
sions; and  this  force,  like  a  mountain  torrent,  in  so 
passing  from  an  open  to  a  narrow  bed,  gains  new  im- 
petuosity.—  Ingenuous   disapproval  becomes   covert 
rancour;  virtuous  indignation  slides  into  implacable 
revenge ;  and  acrid   scorn  completely  excludes,  not 
only  all  indulgence  towards  the  frailty  of  men,  but  all 
compassion  for  their  sorrows. 

A  sense  of  justice  founded  on  genuine  notions  of 
the  Divine  character  and  government,  does  not  carry 
the  mind  further  than  to  a  mournful  acquiescence  in 
the  infliction  of  due  punishment  upon  the  guilty.  But 
it  is  quite  otherwise  with  that  perverted  feeling  which, 
while  it  draws  its  animation  from  hatred,  derives  its 
swollen  bulk  from  the  imagination. — The  imagination 
inflamed  by  malignity,  respects  no  bounds  in  its  de- 
mand of  vengeance.  The  very  essence  of  Justice, 
which  is  strictly  to  observe  a  limits  scandalizes  the 


60 


FANATICISM, 


fanatic,  who  must  heap  terror  upon  terror,  and  still 
fails  to  satisfy  his  conception  of  what  might  be  fitting, 
as  the  doom  of  the  accursed  objects  of  his  contempt. 
There  is  in  the  human  mind,  when  profoundly  moved, 
a  strange  eagerness  to  reach  the  depths  of  the  most 
appalling  ideas ; — or,  shall  we  say,  to  tread  the  very 
lowest  ground  of  the  W()rld  of  woe  and  horror.  This 
innominate  appetite  finds  its  proper  aliment  when  a 
Manichsean  belief  is  turned  wildly  loose  upon  the  field 
of  human  misery  : — carnage,  murder,  slavery,  torment, 
famine,  pestilence,  pining  anguish; — or  hurricanes, 
earthquakes,  volcanic  fires,  are  all  so  many  articles 
in  the  creed  of  the  malign  being.  Under  the  influence 
of  this  cavernous  inspiration,  JPity  is  thought  of,  not 
merely  as  contemptible,  but  as  impious  ;--Justice  is 
injustice,  and  leniency  the  greatest  of  crimes. — Are 
we  here  only  giving  point  to  a  paragraph  ? — or  has  not 
history  often  and  again  verified  such  a  description  of 
the  enormities  which  the  human  heart,  badly  informed, 
may  entertain  ?* 

HI.  But  the  Fanatic,  inasmuch  as  he  is  an  Enthu- 
siast born,  must  take  up  yet  another  and  a  more  spark- 
ling element  of  character ;  and  it  is  nothing  else  than 
the  supposition  of  corrupt  favouritism  on  the  part  of 
the  deity  he  worships,  toward  himself  and  the  faction 
of  which  he  is  a  member.  The  Fanatic,  and  this  we 
must  keep  in  mind,  is  not  a  simple  misanthrope,  nor 
the  creature  of  sheer  hatred  and  cruelty : — he  does 
not  move  like  a  venemous  reptile  lurking  in  a  crevice, 
or  winding  silent  through  the  grass ;  but  soars  in  mid 
heaven  as  a  fiery  flying  serpent,  and  looks  down  from 
on  high  upon  whom  he  hates.  Imaginative  by  tem- 
perament, his  emotions  are  allied  to  hope  and  presump- 
tion, more  closely  than  to  fear  and  despondency :  he 
firmly  believes,  therefore,  in  the  favour  of  the  supernal 
powers  towards  their/aithful  votaries ;  and  in  expect- 


*  A  fit  occasion  will  present  itself  for  excluding  any  sinister  infer- 
ence which  might  be  drawn  from  these  allegations  againat  the 
verities  of  Christianity. 


serious 


THE    OFFSPRING    OP   ENTHUSIASM. 


«t 


ation  of  still  more  signal  boons  than  yet  he  has  re- 
ceived, oflfers  himself  to  their  service,  as  the  unflinch- 
ing champion  of  their  interests  on  earth. 

And  besides,  as  we  have  already  said,  the  imagina- 
tion, when  brought  into  play  by  self-love,  must  draw 
its  excitements  from  a  circle  which  it  can  embrace. 
It  will  then  be  a  tribe,  a  sect,  a  faction,  that  affords  a 
sphere  to  fanaticism  ;  and  the  infuriate  religionist,  how 
unsocial  soever  in  temper,  is  compelled  to  love  a  few, 
so  that  he  may  be  able,  in  the  strength  of  that  partial 
feeling,  to  hate  the  many  with  full  intensity. — The 
supposition  of  special  favour  towards  ourselves,  on  the 
part  of  heaven,  will  corrupt  and  debilitate,  or  will 
purify  and  invigorate  the  heart,  precisely  accoixling  to 
the  quality  of  the  notions  we  entertain  of  the  Divine 
character.     The  idea  of  personal  regard  and  aflfection 
from  Him  who  loves  only  what  is  good  and  pure  like 
Himself,  can  never  operate  to  impair  the  principles  of 
the  moral  sense :  nay,  this  very  idea,  when  freed  from 
illusions,  imparts  elevation  to  virtue,  and  makes  the 
temper  and  conduct  of  man,  on  earth,  to  reflect  the 
brightness  of  heaven.    But  on  the  contrary,  theological 
notions,  when  sullied  or  distorted,  vitiate  in  an  extreme 
degree  every  sentiment  of  the  deluded   being  who 
deems  himself  the  darling  of  the  skies.     Let  but  such 
a  pestilent  doctrine  be  admitted   as  that  the  Divine 
favour  is  bestowed,  not  merely  in  disregard  of  virtue, 
but  in  contempt  of  it,  and  then  religion,  with  all  its 
power,  goes  over  to  swell  the  torrent  of  impurity, 
cupidity,  and  malice.     Under  patronage  of  a  belief 
like  this,  virtue  and  vice  change  sides  in  the  court  of 
conscience,  and  the  latter  claims  sacred  honours. 

We  recapitulate  our  three  elements  of  Fanaticism, 
which  (as  we  assume)  will  be  discoverable,  in  different 
modes  or  proportions,  under  all  foriiis  oi  religious 
extravagance — namely — The  supposition  of  malignity 
on  the  part  of  the  object  of  religious  worship; — a  con- 
sequent detestation  of  mankind  at  large,  as  the  subjects 
of  Malignant  Power ;  and  then  a  credulous  conceit  of 

7 


(W 


FANATICISM. 


\fii 


the  favour  of  Heaven,  shown  to  a  few,  in  contempt  of 
the  rules  of  virtue. 

Now  we  might  follow  the  track  of  history,  and 
exhibit  the  modifications  these  elements  have  under- 
gone in  the  religious  systems  that  have  successively 
ruled  in  the  world.  But  any  method  which  observes 
the  order  of  Time,  though  obvious  and  simple,  is 
laden  with  the  inconvenience  of  involving  frequent 
repetitions  of  general  principles.  It  will  be  better  to 
sieze  upon  certain  leading  varieties  of  our  subject,  as 
marked  by  broad  distinctions,  easily  traced  in  every 
age,  and  such  as  may  be  recognized,  whenever  they 
may  recur,  without  hazard  of  mistake.  These  con- 
spicuous varieties  may  be  brought  under  four  designa- 
tions, of  which  the  first  will  comprehend  all  instances 
wherein  malignant  religious  sentiments  turn  inward 
upon  the  unhappy  subject  of  them :  to  the  second 
class  will  belong  that  more  virulent  sort  of  fanaticism 
which  looks  abroad  for  its  victims ;  the  third  embraces 
the  combination  of  intemperate  religious  zeal  with 
military  sentiments,  or  with  national  pride,  and  the 
love  of  power ;  to  the  fourth  class  must  be  reserved 
all  instances  of  the  more  intellectual  kind,  and  which 
stand  connected  with  opinion  and  dogma.  Our  first 
sort  then  is  Austere ;  the  second  Cruel ;  the  third 
Ambitious ;  and  the  fourth  Factious. 

Or,  for  the  purpose  of  fixing  a  characteristic  mark 
upon  each  of  our  classes,  as  above  named,  let  it  be 
permitted  us  to  entitle  them  as  follows — namely,  the 
first.  The  Fanaticism  of  the  Scourge  ;  or  of  personal 
infliction :  the  second,  the  Fanaticism  of  the  Brand  ; 
or  of  immolation  and  cruelty  :  the  third,  the  Fanaticism 
of  the  Banner;  or  of  ambition  and  conquest:  and 
the  fourth,  the  Fanaticism  of  the  Symbol;  or  of 
creeds,  dogmatism,  and  ecclesiastical  virulence. 


SECTION  V. 


FANATICISM    OF    THE    SCOURGE. 

The  broadest  distinctions  in  the  exterior  character  of 
men,  and   the   most   marked  dissimilarities   in   iheir 
modes  of  conduct,  do  not  infallibly  bespeak  a  difterence 
equally  great  in  the  elements  of  their  temper.    On  the 
contrary,  it  is  sometimes  easy  to  trace  in  the  minds  of 
those  between  whose  visible  course  of  life  there  has 
been  little  or  no  resemblance,  a  close  analogy.     Yet 
even  when  such  an  analogy  may  be  discerned,  it  is 
not  always  practicable  to  discover  the  causes  of  the 
external    diversity   which    distinguishes    them.      An 
obscure  peculiarity  of  the  bodily  temperament,  or  a 
forgotten  incident  of  early  life,  may  have  been  enough 
to  determine    whether    certain    impetuous    passions 
should  take  their  course  abroad,  or  should  boil  as  a 
vortex  within  the  bosom.    So  is  it  that  when  a  stream 
gushes  from  its  cleft,  the  mere  bend  of  a  tree,  or  the 
angle  of  a  rock,  may  be  all  the  reason  either  of  its 
taking  its  course  westward— to  measure  the  width  of 
a  continent ;  or  toward  the  east,  soon  to  find  a  home 
in    some    pent-up   gully,  or    sullen    cavern    of   the 

mountains. 

Causes  so  inconsiderable  or  so  latent  we  must  not 
hope  always  to  detect.  It  will  be  enough  if  we  can 
shew  reason  for  bringing  together  into  the  same  gen- 
eral class,  men  who  would  both  perhaps  have  recoiled 
with  horror  or  with  disdain  to  find  themselves  in  each 
other's  company.  Yes,  we  should  all  learn  much  of  the 
secrets  of  our  personal  dispositions,  and  see  our  pecu- 


m 


FANATICISM 


OF   THE    SCOURGE. 


i 


liar  tempers  as  if  under  a  sudden  blaze  of  light,  could 
it  happen  that  some  superior  Intelligence,  descending 
upon  earth,  were  to  do  nothing  more  as  Discriminator 
of  character,  and  Censor  of  minds,  than  silently  to  clas- 
sify the  crowd  of  men  by  the  rule  of  their  original 
propensities,  or  their  essential  merits. — We  should 
then  read  our  hearts  in  the  companions  with  whom  we 
found  ourselves  assorted. 

Why  has  the  fanaticism  of  one  man  devastated  the 
world ;  while  that  of  another  has  spent  itself  within 
the  walls  of  a  cloister?  we  may  not  be  able  to  say. 
Nevertheless  there  are  'nstances  of  this  sort  which  are 
easily  explained.  As  for  example : — violent  or  ma- 
lign passions  sometimes  turn  inward,  and  vex  the 
heart  that  generates  them,  in  consequence  of  the  mere 
sluggishness  or  lassitude  of  the  animal  system  which, 
while  it  insulates  a  man  from  others,  as  if  he  were 
enveloped  in  an  indolent  fog,  yet  does  not  much  affect 
the  interior  of  the  character.  There  may  exist  a  very 
high  rate  of  moral  or  intellectual  excitement,  where 
the  manners  and  mode  of  conduct  indicate  nothing 
but  torpor.  Just  as,  in  some  bottomless  lakes,  vehe- 
ment under-currents  or  eddies  make  sport  below,  while 
the  surface  is  still  and  stagnant.  Not  a  few  of  our 
fanatics  of  the  self-tormenting  class  come  under  this 
description. 

There  is  too  to  be  found,  here  and  there,  a  pride  of 
personal  independence,  and  a  misanthropic  arrogance 
which  as  it  spurns  every  sort  of  mutuality,  compels 
the  soul  to  feed  on  its  own  substance.  It  might  seem 
enough  for  such  a  one  to  refuse  to  draw  its  satisfactions 
from  its  fellows ;  but  there  is  a  malignant  pride  more 
excessive  than  this,  and  which  even  refuses  to  be  so 
far  dependent  upon  other  men  as  to  call  them  the 
objects  of  its  hatred  or  revenge. — There  is  a  haughti- 
ness so  egregious  that  a  man  will  contemn  and  torment 
himself  sooner  than  condescend  to  look  abroad  as  if 
he  stood  in  need  of  any  beings  as  the  objects  of  his  ire- 
ful emotions.  Although  nature  forbids  that  any  such  at- 


tempt at  mental  insulation  should  be  altogether  success- 
ful yet  the  endeavour  is  made  and  is  renewed,  day  after 
day,  by  spirits  of  the  order  we  describe.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  are  instances  in  which  a  mild  meditative 
humour,  perverted  by  some  false  system  of  belief,  or 
excessive  sensibilities  that  have  chanced  to  be  torn 
and  outraged  in  the  world,  or  much  physical  timidity 
combined  with  lofty  and  exquisite  sentiments,  produce 
the  effect  of  introverting  gloomy  emotions  upon  the 
npart 

Instances  of  a  mixed   or   mitigated  kind  present 
themselves  on  all  sides.     In  truth  the  cases  of  pure 
fanaticism  (our  definition  being  kept  in  view*)   are 
rare ;  or  rather,  are  not  readily  separated  from  those 
dispositions  with  which  it  naturally  consorts.  Whether 
certain  extravagant  modes  of  conduct  are  to  be  attrib- 
uted to  sheer  superstition  ;  or  whether  there  be  noth- 
ing in  them  worse  than  an  absurd  enthusiasm,  it  may 
be  impossible   to  affirm.     The  best  we  can  do  is  to 
catch  the  distinctive  features  of  each  kind,  as  the  am- 
biguous instances  pass  before  us.     Of  all   the  facts 
which  might  be  adduced  (and  they  would  soon  fill  vol- 
umes) illustrative  of  the  system  of  monkish  austerity, 
very  few  broadly  and  incontestibly  exhibit  the  virulent 
motives  which,  nevertheless,  the  entire  history  of  the 
system  demonstrates  to  have  been  in  secret  operation 
throughout  it.     Especially  is  it  to  be  observed,  that  the 
prevalence  of  a  certain  accredited  and  admired  style 
of  expressing  the  monkish  doctrine  conceals,  or  half 
conceals  the  passions  that  were  working  beneath  the 
surface  of  its  placid  sanctity.     No  one  who  is  conver- 
sant with  the  ascetic  writers  can  have  failed  to  discern 
the  strong  heavings  of  human  nature  under  the  pres- 
sure of  that  system,  even  when  it  might  be  difficult  or 
impossible  to  adduce  formal  proof  of  the  hidden  com- 
motion.    What  we  have  now  to  do  is  broadly  to  char- 

♦Page  21. 

7* 


M 


tl- 


<l 


FANATICISM 


I 


1' 

II' 

I  tan  ;li 


li 


acterise  this  species  of  fanaticism  ; — not  such  as  it 
seeins  in  the  encomiastic  pages  of  Theodoret,  Sozomen, 
Isidore,  Macarius,  Palladius,  Cassian  ;  or  of  Basil  and 
Bernard ;  but  such  as,  after  a  candid  perusal  of  these 
writers,  we  are  compelled  to  believe  it  to  have  been.* 

There  are  three  distinct  elements  upon  which  fan- 
atical sentiment,  when  introverted,  employs  itself;  and 
in  each  instance  the  product  is  very  distinguishable. — 
These  are,  1st.  The  miseries,  physical  and  mental,  to 
which  man  is  liable.  2d.  A  consciousness  of  personal 
guilt,  and  dread  of  retribution.  And,  3d.  The  suppo- 
sition of  supererogatory  or  vicarious  merit.  The  work- 
ing of  the  soul  upon  each  of  these  excitements  de- 
mands to  be  briefly  exhibited. 

1st.  There  is  a  rebellion  of  proud  hearts  against  the 
calamities  to  which  human  life  is  exposed,  such  as 
impels  sometimes  the  disordered  mind  to  take  up  its 
burden  of  woe  spontaneously,  rather  than  wait  till  it 
be  imposed.  "  If  pain,  sorrow,  and  want,  are  to  be  my 
companions,  I  vow  to  have  none  beside. — I  will  run 
forward  and  embrace  wretchedness. — 1  will  live  for 
Misery,  so  that  she  may  never  overtake  me,  or  set  me 
as  the  mark  of  her  arrow.  Disappointment  shall  for 
me  hold  no  shaft  which  I  will  not  have  wrenched  from 
her  cruel  hand,  ere  it  can  be  hurled.  The  power  of 
bodily  pain  shall  have  no  anguish  in  store  which  I  will 
not  freely  have  forestalled.  Famine,  thirst,  heat  and 
cold,  shall  assail  me  with  no  new  lesson  of  distress. — 
No,  for  I  will  frequent  their  school.  Every  pang  the 
flesh  or  the  heart  can  feel,  I  will  prevent  by  existing 
only  for  sorrow.  Even  that  unknown  futurity  of  evil 
which  death  may  reveal,  I  will  penetrate  by  continual 
meditation  of  horrors.  So  will  1  daily  converse  with 
ghastly  despair,  as  to  taste  beforehand  the  very  worst, 
and  to  nullify  fear  by  familiarity."    Modes  of  feeling 

♦The  Author  having  in  another  volume  considered  the  Monkish 
institute  and  doctrine  as  the  product  and  parent  of  Enthusiasm,  has 
now  only  to  advert  to  those  stronger  features  of  the  system  which 
mark  it  as  Fanatical  or  virulent. 


i 


OF    THE    SCOURGE. 


67 


such  as  this,  have  been  indulged ;  and  perhaps  even 
DOW  are  not  wholly  u;  known  to  some.  While  we  are 
looking  only  on  the  frivolous,  the  busy,  and  the  sen- 
sual field  o  '  common  lite  as  spread  out  around  us,  it 
may  be  hard  to  believe  that  the  human  mind  has  ever 
travelled  on  a  path  so  deep-sunken.  But  if  we  turn 
aside  a  little  from  the  beaten  road,  we  shall  find  instan- 
ces of  this  sort  actually  to  belong  to  the  history  of 
njan. 

A  desperate  and  sullen  pride  has  always  marked 
the  oriental  (polytheistic)  austerities;  and  in  India  we 
see  unmasked,  that  which  in   Europe  has  disguised 
itself  under  Christian   modes  of  expression.      Very 
little  that  offends  against  the  professed  humility  of  the 
ascetic  life  is  to  be  found  on  the  pages  of  the  writers 
who  give  us  the  principles  and  rules  of  the  system,  and 
who,  for  the  most  part,  were  themselves  happy  under 
it,  as  Enthusiasts.     What  might  be  the  bitterness  of 
the  heart  in  those  who  were  its  victims,  we  are  left  to 
surmise.     There  were  more  motives  than  one  for  im- 
posing perpetual   silence    upon   the   inmates   of  the 
monastery.     The  founder  of  the  order,  or  its  reformer, 
might  talk  aloud,  and  disclaim  as  he  would  upon  the 
felicity  of  his  condition ;  for  with  him  the   fanaticism 
was  of  a  sort  that  might  be  known  and  looked  at ;  but 
not  so  with  the  fraternity  at  large.     A  de  Ranee  or  a 
Eustache   de  Beaufort  may  speak :— -but  their  com- 
panions must  utter  no  whisper  of  their  sorrows.* 

*  St.  Bernard,  intending  no  doubt  to  recommend  the  monastic 
state,  pleasantly  compares  the  monks  to  the  fish  in  a  puddle!  "Sunt 
et  in  slagnis  mundi  pisces,  qui  in  claustris  Deo  serviunt  in  spiritu  et 
veritate.  "^  Merito  siquidem  stagnis  monasteriacomparantur,  ubi  quo- 
dammodo  incarcerali  pisces  evagandi  non  habeant  libertatem." 
{Serm.  in  Fest.  S.  ^ndr.  .ipost.)  And  a  horrid  prison,  accordmg  to 
his  own  confession,  was  ihe  monastery:  '' Duro  me  carcm  ma nci- 
pavi."  {Epist.  237.)  So  much  so,  that  it  seemed  to  the  samt  himself 
the  greatest  of  all  miracles  that  men  should  be  found  who  were  will- 
ing to  endure  its  discipline.     Let  us  hear  him  when,  on  a  high  day, 

he°is  haranguing  the  fraternity  :  "Gluid  mirabilius,  &c Uuod 

majus  miraculum,  quando  tot  juvenes,  tot  adolescentea,  tot  nobiles, 
universi  denique  quos  hie  video,  velut  in  carcere  aperto  tenentur  sine 


1. 


M 


68 


FANATICISM 


OF    THE    SCOURGE. 


6§ 


I 


2d.  A  proud  forestalling  of  misery,  such  as  we  have 
just  spoken  of,  ordinarily  combines  itself  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  guilt  and  the  dread  of  retribution  ;  and 
both  together  lead  to  the  same  voluntary  endurance  of 
extreme  pains  ;  he  who  thinks  himself  both  a  Victim 
and  a  Culprit  would  fain  take  the  engine  of  retribu- 
tive torment  into  his  own  hand,  lest  it  should  be  laid 
hold  of  by  the  Vindictive  Power  he  dreads.  And  the 
hope  he  entertains  of  acting  always  as  proxy  for  the 
minister  of  Justice  in  his  own  case,  bears  proportion 
to  the  rigour  with  which  he  exercises  the  function  of 
executioner.* 

What  spectacle  in  nature  so  monstrous,  what,  at 
first  sight,  so  inexplicable,  as  that  of  an  excruciated 
devotee  who  scorns  even  to  writhe  or  to  sigh  under 
tortures  which  other  men  would  not  endure  an  hour, 

vinculis,  solo  Dei  timore  confixi :  quod  in  lanta  perseverant  afflictione 
poenitentiaB,  ultra  rirtulem  humanam,  supra  naturam,  contra  consue- 
tudinem  ?"  {Serm.  in  dedicat.  eccles.^  A  general  fact,  on  the  ground 
of  which  we  may  argue  more  conhdently  than  from  the  disguised 
language  of  men  whose  enslaved  spirits  knew  nothing  of  ingenu- 
ousness, is  this,  that  as  the  monastic  system  sprung  up  amid  the 
persecutions  of  the  second  century,  so  has  it  flourished  most,  and  been 
carried  to  the  greatest  extremes,  in  times  of  public  calamity  and 
disorder. — The  miseries  of  the  open  world  have  been  reflected  upon 
the  austerities  of  the  cell — that  camera  obscura.  It  appears  plainly 
that  the  excessive  abstinence  and  the  savage  habits  of  the  Egyptian 
eremites — so  much  admired  by  the  Church  writers  of  the  fourth  and 
fifth  centuries,  were  little  more  than  a  fantastic  form  of  the  wretched- 
ness of  the  people  of  the  country.  As  much  as  this  is  confessed  by 
some  of  the  eulogists  of  these  horrid  saints.  Thus  for  example 
Palladius. — As  to  what  relates  to  eating  and  drinking  (speaking  of 
a  certain  Macarius  and  his  companions)  I  need  say  little,  since  nothing 
like  gluttony  is  to  be  found  there,  even  among  the  most  indulgent  of 
the  monks,  who  live  at  large ;  or  any  thing  to  distinguish  them  from 
the  people  of  the  country  ;  and  this  as  well  by  reason  of  the  scarcity  of 
food,  as  from  the  impulse  of  a  Divine  zeal — koH  6tot  riiv  (r-xx^r^i  rm 
^peaij  Kai  S'lec  Tov  xara  ^eov  ^^Xov. — Ltmsaic  Hist.  c.  21. 

*  Christian  sentiments  modify  the  feelings  of  this  sort,  and  give 
them  a  more  humble  guise.  Ergo  qui  poenitentiam  agit,  offere  se 
debet  ad  poenam,  ut  hie  puniatur  a  Domino,  non  ad  supplicia  aBterna 
eervetur:  nee  expectare  tempus,  sed  occurrere  divinae  indignationi. 
{Ambrose  in  Ps.  xxxvii.)  Do  the  apostles  speak  in  any  such  style  ? 
The  transition  was  easy  from  a  doctrine  like  this  to  the  extreraest 
austerities. 


to  save  or  to  obtain  a  mountain  of  gold  !  Yet  he  sus- 
tains, year  after  year,  his  burden  of  woe  in  the  mere 
strength  of  the  obduracy  of  his  soul ! — Bound  to  the 
stake ; — yes,  but  bound  only  by  the  cords  of  pride  I 
Does  then  a  spectacle  like  this  afford  no  lesson  ?  After 
we  have  scoffed  at  the  folly,  or  wondered  at  the  infat- 
uation of  the  voluntary  sufferer,  let  us  return  and  ask, 
whether  so  strange  a  perversion  of  thQ  power  of  the 
spirit  over  the  body,  does  not  furnish  evidence  of  an 
overthrown  greatness  in  the  human  mind,  such  as  the 
atheist  and  sceptic  quite  leave  out  of  their  theory 
of  man  ?  If  it  be  said  that  these  witless  personal  in- 
flictions take  place  in  consequence  only  of  an  error  of 
belief,  and  may  properly  be  compared  to  the  ill-direct- 
ed fatigues  of  a  traveller  who,  on  wrong  information, 
pursues  a  worse  road  when  he  might  have  found  a 
better,  let  only  the  experiment  be  tried  of  leading,  into 
a  parallel  error,  any  being  to  whom  the  body  and  its 
welfare  is  the  supreme  and  only  interest  to  be  cared 
for. — Not  a  step  could  ever  be  set  by  such  a  being 
towards  a  folly  of  this  order.  The  liability  of  man  to 
go  so  far  astray  springs  from  those  ulterior  principles 
that  are  involved  in  his  nature,  and  which  bespeak  an 
immortal  destiny.  Every  such  practical  absurdity  is 
an  implicit  proof  of  the  presence  of  a  latent  capacity 
for  entertaining  the  highest  truths ;  and  if  man  be  the 
only  fool  among  the  tribes  of  earth,  and  the  only- 
wretch,  it  is  because  he  alone  might  be  wise,  virtuous 
and  happy. 

On  this  ground  the  voluntary  endurance  of  tor- 
ment, from  motives  of  religion,  may  be  assumed,  as 
demonstrative  evidence  of  the  intrinsic  superiority  of 
the  mental  over  the  animal  principles  of  our  nature; 
— for  when  the  body  prevails,  as  too  often  it  does, 
over  the  mind,  it  is  by  the  means  of  seductions  and 
flatteries ;  and  we  know  that  in  this  manner  the  noble 
may  readily  be  made  to  succumb  beneath  the  base. 
But  when,  as  in  the  instance  before  us,  the  mental 
force  triumphs  over  the  physical  will,  it  does  so  in  the 


70 


FANATICISM 


OF    THE    SCOURGE. 


71 


way  of  an  open  trial  of  relative  strength ; — and  the 
stronger  principle  is  found  to  prevail.  We  receive, 
moreover,  from  these  extraordinary  facts,  a  striking 
proof  of  the  supremacy  of  the  moral  sense  in  the 
constitution  of  man  ;  for  it  is  this  chiefly  that  gives 
impulse  to  the  practices  of  self-torture.  And  again, 
the  relation  of  man  to  Invisible  and  Retributive  Pow- 
er, is  by  the  same  means  established ;  the  secret  of 
every  sort  of  self-infliction  is  a  tacit  compromise  with 
Future  Justice ;  and  when  notions  such  as  these  take 
effect  in  a  paramount  manner,  carrying  all  other 
reasons  before  them,  we  have  evidence  that,  in  the 
order  of  nature,  Religion  is  the  sovereign  motive. 

The  fanatic  is  much  in  error  ;  yet  let  it  not  be 
thought  that  he  subverts  the  first  principles  of  virtue. 
- — He  is  wrong  on  certain  points  of  morality,  calling 
good  evil  and  evil  good ;  but  still  it  is  good  and  evil 
that  are  the  elements  he  works  upon.  And  so  in 
religion. — His  correspondence  is  with  a  Power  of 
retributive  Government  on  high ;  but  he  thinks  amiss 
of  that  Power.  His  error  is  to  impute  an  intrinsic 
malignancy,  or  a  sheer  vindictive  purpose  to  the  Invisi- 
ble Authority  ;  and  then  he  conceives  of  himself  as 
having,  by  his  transgressions,  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
the  irresistible  avenger,  who,  as  he  thinks,  can  take 
advantage  of  mankind  only  so  far  as  sin  brings  them 
"within  the  circle  of  his  wrath ;  or  who,  once  and 
again  starts  forth  and  catches  an  opportunity  against 
men,  when  he  finds  them  unwary  or  at  fault. 

In  a  form  so  preposterous  as  this,  fanatical  belief  is 
hardly  perhaps  to  be  met  with,  except  on  the  banks 
of  the  Ganges  or  in  the  wilds  of  Africa.  We  describe 
the  feeling  in  its  extremes,  and  then,  in  turning  to 
instances  where  a  purer  creed  has  softened  whatever 
is  harsh,  and  where  an  accredited  theological  style 
has  disguised  whatever  is  oflfensive,  we  trace  the 
elements  of  the  very  same  order  of  feeling  under  the 
concealments  that  recommend  them.  We  must  not 
expect  to  hear  from  the  Christian  ascetic  a  genuine 


expression  of  the  emotions  that  torment  his  bosom  : 
these  are  to  be  divined  by  a  fair  interpretation  of 
his  behaviour.  It  is  by  the  same  rule  that  we  shall 
presently  have  to  estimate  the  dispositions  of  those 
who  have  signalized  themselves  in  scenes  of  cruelty. 
To  read  the  extant  writings — the  epistles,  the  medita- 
tions, the  homilies,  of  some  of  these  sanguinary  per- 
sonages, one  would  think  them  unconscious  of  every 
thing  but  meekness  aud  charity. 

Dread  or  dismay,  when  of  long  continuance,  natu- 
rally settles  down  into  some  sort  of  calculation  or  of 
compromise  with  the  apprehended  danger.  And  it  is 
thus  that  there  arises,  within  the  troubled  spirit  of  the 
man  whose  consciousness  of  guilt  was  at  first  intoler- 
able, a  whispered  controversy  with  the  vengeful  Pow- 
er, or  a  dull  wrangling  debate  concerning  the  precise 
amount  of  the  mulct,  and  the  mode  of  payment.  The 
culprit,  confessing  that  he  has  fallen  under  the  power 
of  his  adversary,  nevertheless  does  not,  after  a  while 
despair  of  making  terms  more  advantageous  than  at 
first  he  had  thought  of. — With  this  hope  he  looks 
about  for  the  means  of  righting  his  cause,  or  even  of 
quite  turning  the  balance  in  his  favour. — Yes,  and  he 
goes  so  far  as  to  harbour  the  thought  (natural  to  the 
mind  when  it  is  the  prey  of  rancorous  emotions)  of 
justifying,  to  such  an  extent,  the  diflference  between 
himself  and  the  Avenger,  as  that,  if  after  all,  punish- 
ment should  be  inflicted,  it  shall  be,  and  shall  seem  to 
others — unrighteous  and  cruel,  so  that  while  writhing 
under  it,  the  suflferer  may  console  himself  with  the 
proud  consciousness  of  merit,  and  may,  even  on  the 
ground  of  severe  justice,  gain  a  right  of  retaliation. 

At  this  point  then  there  comes  in  hope,  and  a  new 
emotion  to  give  alacrity  to  the  fortitude  of  the  soul. — 
The  conscience-stricken  man  discovers  that  he  pos- 
sesses within  himself  (as  if  it  were  an  inexhaustible 
fund)  the  power  of  enduring  privations  and  pains  : — 
he  may  deny  every  gratification,  he  may  sustain  with- 
out  a  groan  the  most  extreme  anguish,  he  may  live 


n 


FANATICISM 


OP    THE    SCOURGE. 


73 


t 


only  to  suffer.  And  in  his  mode  of  estimating  the 
absolving  value  of  bodily  torment  he  reckons  that, 
whatever  price  may  be  put  upon  those  pains  or  wants 
which  a  man  endures  unwillingly,  and  from  which  he 
has  no  means  of  escaping,  the  merit  of  the  same 
amount  of  affliction  borne  voluntarily,  is  tenfold 
greater.*  Whoever  then  has  the  fortitude  to  inflict 
misery  upon  himself,  may  boldly  defy  vindictive 
Power ;  for  he  commands  the  means  of  adding  merit 
to  merit,  at  such  a  rate  of  rapid  accumulation  as  shall 
presently  outstrip  the  reckoning  of  the  adversary.f 

Fanaticism  (the  fanaticism  of  personal  infliction)  is 
not  ripened  until  it  approaches  this  point.  That  is  to 
say,  it  wants  spring  and  warmth  ; — it  is  not  tumid  ; — 
it  has  no  heroism  so  long  as  mere  dread,  and  the  sense 
of  guilt,  are  uppermost  in  the  mind.  But  when  pride 
takes  its  high  standing  upon  the  supposition  of  merit 
won,  and  when  Invisible  Powers  are  deemed  to  have 
been  foiled,  then  the  spirit  gets  freedom  and  soars. — 
Pitiable  triumph  of  the  lacerated  heart  that  thus  vaunts 
itself  in  miseries  as  useless  as  they  are  horrid ! — Must 


"  Tv    r£u    etvayicaiuv ,   KctpreptKOiy 


uW 


Fo  says 


c»   a(P^oviec   rr\i  OLTToXicvcrtui  ^yKOLprtpSv  TaT$  him, 

Basil  ;  and  the  sentiment  might  be  put  at  the  head  of  volumes  of 

spurious  morality. 

t  Not  a  few  of  those  who  peopled,  first  the  deserts,  and  afterwards 
the  monasteries,  were  such  as  the  "  Blessed"  eremite  whom  Palla- 
dius  describes  {Lausaic  Hist.  c.  19.) — a  homicide — we  take  his  word 
for  it  that  he  was  not  a  murderer,  who,  in  terror  of  justice,  and  under 
horror  of  conscience — /i«r)Jgvi  f4.y\i'iv   tlprixui,  x«T«Xa(X/S<«v€<   ty\v 
«pr)iXOV — where,  unsheltered,  he  wandered,  lost  to  all  feeling  three 
years;  but  afterwards  built  for  himself  a  cell,  and  acquired  celebrity 
as  an  eminent  practitioner  of  austerities.     I  wished  to  know  from 
him,  says  our  author,  with  what  feeling  he  now  regarded  the  fatal 
act  that  had  driven  him  into  solitude: — he  replied,  that,  far  from 
thinking  of   it    with   regret,   it  was  a  ground   of   thanksgiving — 
yeytvtjTtti   yup   (jloi   ^virti   vvreho'ti   (retri^pteui  o   uKovcioq  ^ovo$. 
The  profession  is  susceptible  of  a  good  meaning,  and  charity  requires 
that  we  should  so  receive  it.     Nothing  indeed  would  be  more  out- 
rageous than  to  deny  universally  the  piety  and  sincerity  of  even  the 
most  extravagant  class  of  the  anchorets.    Better  epeak  on  such  sub- 
jects like  Alb^n  Butler  than  like  Gibbon. 


we  not  mourn  the  infatuations  of  our  nature,  as  we 
watch  the  ascent  of  the  soul  that  climbs  the  sky  only 
to  carry  there  a  sullen  defiance  of  Eternal  Justice  ! — ■ 
So  the  bird  of  prey,  beat  off*  from  the  fold,  and  torn 
with  the  shepherd's  shafts — its  plumage  ruffled,  and 
stained  with  gore,  flaps  the  wing  on  high,  and  fronts 
the  sun  as  if  to  boast  before  heaven  of  its  audacity  and 
its  wounds  ! 

It  is  after  it  has  passed  this  siag*^,  or  when  fear  and 
humiliation  give  way  to  hope,  to  pride,  or  perhaps  to 
revenge,  that  secondary  motives  are  brought  in,  and 
fanaticism  becomes  a  mixed  sentiment,  and  is  lowered 
in  its  tone;  not  seldom  degenerates  into  farce  or 
hypocrisy,  and  at  length  perhaps  quite  evaporates. 
Secondary  motives  of  this  kind  would  never  be  lis- 
tened to  if  it  were  not  for  the  alleviations  that  arise 
from  habit.  The  pains  of  mere  privation,  terrible  as 
they  seem  to  the  luxurious,  the  human  mind  soon 
learns  to  endure  without  repining ;  nay,  it  derives  at 
length  a  sombre  satisfaction  from  the  very  paucity  of 
its  sources  of  comfort.  A  reaction,  such  as  this,  is  not 
of  rare  occurrence. — Certain  tempers  are  alive  to  an 
emotion  of  personal  independence  which,  when  fully- 
kindled,  makes  it  delicious  to  a  man  to  find  that,  in 
comparison  with  those  around  him,  he  is  free  from 
solicitude,  because  free  from  wants; — that  a  mere 
morsel  of  the  coarsest  food  is  all  he  is  compelled  to 
ask  from  the  grudging  world ;  and  that  the  thraldom 
of  artificial  life  is  a  bondage  he  has  broken.* 

The  habitude  of  positive  pain,  as  well  as  that  of 
mere  privation,  brings  too  its  relief: — there  is  a  torpor 

*  To  a  naked  eremite  St.  Bernard,  pro  signo  caritatis,  sent  a  cloak 
and  boots,  which  he  kindly  received,  and,  as  an  act  of  humility  and 
obedience,  put  on ;  yet  presently,  like  a  true  New  Zealander,  laid 
aside  as  intolerable.  Et  nunc,  said  he,  pro  amore  ipsius,  vestimenta 
transmissa  obedienter  accepi,  et  indui ;  diutius  tamen  ea  portare  non 
vaUoj  quia  nee  opus  est  mihi ;  nee  ipse  mandavit,  Dico  autem  vobis, 
amicis  meis  canssimis,  quia  nihil  est  mihi  moicstius  quam  ut  curae 
carnis  sarcinam  odiosam,  cum  tanta  difficultate  depositara,  lassatif 
et  dolentibus  humeris  denuo  imponere  cogar. 

8 


H  • 


72 


FANATICISM 


only  to  suffer.  And  in  his  mode  of  estimating  the 
absolving  value  of  bodily  torment  he  reckons  that, 
whatever  price  may  be  put  upon  those  pains  or  wants 
which  a  man  endures  unwillingly,  and  from  which  he 
has  no  means  of  escaping,  the  merit  of  the  same 
amount  of  affliction  borne  voluntarily,  is  tenfold 
greater.*  Whoever  then  has  the  fortitude  to  inflict 
misery  upon  himself,  may  boldly  defy  vindictive 
Power ;  for  he  commands  the  means  of  adding  merit 
to  merit,  at  such  a  rate  of  rapid  accumulation  as  shall 
presently  outstrip  the  reckoning  of  the  adversary. f 

Fanaticism  (the  fanaticism  of  personal  infliction)  is 
not  ripened  until  it  approaches  this  point.  That  is  to 
say,  it  wants  spring  and  warmth  ; — it  is  not  tumid  ; — 
it  has  no  heroism  so  long  as  mere  dread,  and  the  sense 
of  guilt,  are  uppermost  in  the  mind.  But  when  pride 
takes  its  high  standing  upon  the  supposition  of  merit 
won,  and  when  Invisible  Powers  are  deemed  to  have 
been  foiled,  then  the  spirit  gets  freedom  and  soars. — 
Pitiable  triumph  of  the  lacerated  heart  that  thus  vaunts 
itself  in  miseries  as  useless  as  they  are  horrid  ! — Must 

€9  aCp^oviet  T7J5  itTToKecua-eu^  ^yKaprtpav  TaT$  Jf/vo7.  ^o  says 
Basil ;  and  the  sentiment  might  be  put  at  the  head  of  volumes  of 
spurious  morality. 

t  Not  a  few  of  those  who  peopled,  first  the  deserts,  and  afterwards 
the  monasteries,  were  such  as  the  "  Blessed"  eremite  whom  Palla- 
dius  describes  {Lausaic  Hist.  c.  19.)— a  homicide— we  take  his  word 
for  it  that  he  was  not  a  murderer,  who,  in  terror  of  justice,  and  under 
horror  of  conscience— ^yjj^gvi  f^rii'iv  eipr)xdi,  x«T«Xa/x/8«vf/  t/jv 
«pr)|Uiov— where,  unsheltered,  he  wandered,  lost  to  all  feeling  three 
years;  but  afterwards  built  for  himself  a  cell,  and  acquired  celebrity 
as  an  eminent  practitioner  of  austerities.  I  wished  to  know  from 
him,  says  our  author,  with  what  feeling  he  now  regarded  the  fatal 
act  that  had  driven  him  into  solitude:— he  replied,  that,  far  from 
thmkmg  of  it  with  regret,  it  was  a  ground  of  thanksgiving— 
yeytvijrett  yup  f^oi  cpno-if  uTriiean^  o-turtipteci  o  uKou<rtoi  <^ovo«. 
The  profession  is  susceptible  of  a  good  meaning,  and  charity  requires 
that  we  should  so  receive  it.  Nothing  indeed  would  be  more  out- 
rageous than  to  deny  universally  the  piety  and  sincerity  of  even  the 
most  extravagant  class  of  the  anchorets.  Better  epeak  on  such  sub- 
jects like  Alban  Butler  than  like  Gibbon. 


OP   THE    SCOURGE, 


73 


w^e  not  mourn  the  infatuations  of  our  nature,  as  we 
watch  the  ascent  of  the  soul  that  climbs  the  sky  only 
to  carry  there  a  sullen  defiance  of  Eternal  Justice  ! — - 
So  the  bird  of  prey,  beat  off  from  the  fold,  and  torn 
with  the  shepherd's  shafts — its  plumage  ruffled,  and 
stained  with  gore,  flaps  the  wing  on  high,  and  fronts 
the  sun  as  if  to  boast  before  heaven  of  its  audacity  and 
its  wounds  ! 

It  is  after  it  has  passed  this  stag<^,  or  when  fear  and 
humiliation  give  way  to  hope,  to  pride,  or  perhaps  to 
revenge,  that  secondary  motives  are  brought  in,  and 
fanaticism  becomes  a  mixed  sentiment,  and  is  lowered 
in  its  tone ;  not  seldom  degenerates  into  farce  or 
hypocrisy,  and  at  length  perhaps  quite  evaporates. 
Secondary  motives  of  this  kind  would  never  be  lis- 
tened to  if  it  were  not  for  the  alleviations  that  arise 
from  habit.  The  pains  of  mere  privation,  terrible  as 
they  seem  to  the  luxurious,  the  human  mind  soon 
learns  to  endure  without  repining ;  nay,  it  derives  at 
length  a  sombre  satisfaction  from  the  very  paucity  of 
its  sources  of  comfort.  A  reaction,  such  as  this,  is  not 
of  rare  occurrence. — Certain  tempers  are  alive  to  an 
emotion  of  personal  independence  which,  when  fully 
kindled,  makes  it  delicious  to  a  man  to  find  that,  in 
comparison  with  those  around  him,  he  is  free  from 
solicitude,  because  free  from  wants; — that  a  mere 
morsel  of  the  coarsest  food  is  all  he  is  compelled  to 
ask  from  the  grudging  world ;  and  that  the  thraldom 
of  artificial  life  is  a  bondage  he  has  broken.* 

The  habitude  of  positive  pain,  as  well  as  that  of 
mere  privation,  brings  too  its  relief: — there  is  a  torpor 


*  To  a  naked  eremite  St.  Bernard,  pro  signo  caritatis,  sent  a  cloak 
and  boots,  which  he  kindly  received,  and,  as  an  act  of  humility  and 
obedience,  put  on ;  yet  presently,  like  a  true  New  Zealander,  laid 
aside  as  intolerable.  Et  nunc,  said  he,  pro  amore  ipsius,  vestimenta 
transmissa  obedienter  accepi,  et  indui ;  diutius  tamen  ea  portare  non 
valeo,  quia  nee  opus  est  mihi ;  nee  ipse  mandavit.  Dico  autem  vobis, 
amicis  meis  carissimis,  quia  nihil  est  mihi  molcstius  qu^m  ut  curaa 
carnis  sarcinam  odiosam,  cum  tanta  difHcuItate  depositam,  lass&tis 
et  dolentibus  humeris  denuo  imponere  cogar. 

8 


74 


FANATICISM 


partly  of  the  nerve,  but  chiefly  of  the  mind,  which 
more  and  more  blunts  physical  sensibility ; — and  there 
is  an  art  learned  in  the  school  of  chronic  suffering, 
which  teaches  so  to  shift  the  burden  of  anguish  as  tliat 
it  may  not  any  where  gall  to  the  quick.  Moreover 
there  is  a  power  of  abstraction  from  bodily  sensations 
which  long  experience  calls  into  exercise,  and  which 
may  at  length  (even  while  matter  and  mind  continue 
partners)  ahnost  set  the  conscious  principle  at  large 
from  its  sympathy  with  mere  flesh  and  nerve.  Pain, 
at  its  first'  onset,  condenses  the  soul  upon  a  point ;  or 
brings  the  whole  of  the  sensitive  faculty  to  the  one 
centre  of  anguish  ;  but  habit  of  pain  loosens  this  con- 
centration, and  allows  the  mind  to  occupy  a  wider 

surface. 

The  eulogists  of  the  ascetic  saints  boast  often  of  the 

absolute  insensibility  to  pain,  to  thirst,  and  to  hunger, 

which  some  of  their  heroes  had  attained  to.    In  certain 

instances  the  leathern  girdle — zona  pellicea,  hoc  est, 

ex  crudo  corio — ad  macerationem  procurandam — was 

found,  after  death,  to  have  lodged  itself  (shall  we  say 

as  a  seton  ?)  in  the  integuments  around  the  loins ;  so 

as    (in   ordinary  cases)    to   have    occasioned    intense 

suffering:    yet  never  had  the.  secret  been  betrayed 

to  the   fraternity  by  any  indications   of  uneasiness. 

Instances  still  more  extreme,  and  far  too  revolting  to 

describe,  abound  in  the  monkish  records.     If  the  facts 

are  admitted  as  true,  and  they  cannot  altogether  be 

rejected^it  must  be  believed  that  a  state  of  extreme 

mental   abstraction  not   merely  diverts  the  sense  o^ 

pain;  but  prevents  also  that  physical  excitement  which 

ordinarily   attends    excruciating  torture,   and   which 

wastes  the  animal  force.     We  must  attribute  to  the 

same  influence  of  the  mind  the  power  acquired  by 

some  of  the  hermits  of  northern  Europe  to  resist  the 

most  intense  cold — unclothed  and  unsheltered.     The 

instances  are  numerous,  and  are  too  familiarly  spoken 

of  to  be  reasonably  called  in  question.     In  the  tenths 

eleventh,  and  twelfth  centuries,  the  forests  of  Franco 


OF    THE    SCOURGE. 


75 


nnd  Germany  were  haunted  by  naked  anchorets  who, 
round  the  year,  roamed  about,  refusing  even  the 
comforts  of  a  cavern,  and  were  wont  to  repose  at 
night  on  the  fresh  fallen  snow.* 

When  so  much  proficiency  as  this  has  been  made 
by  the  voluntary  sufferer,  he  gains  leisure  to  look 
abroad.  Conqueror,  so  far,  of  himself — of  nature, 
and  of  the  vindictive  powers,  the  fanatic  stalks  about 
as  a  hero,  and  may  even  begin  to  think  how  he  shall 
turn  his  victory  to  profitable  account. — Vanity  and 
ambition,  when  once  they  gain  a  lodgement  in  the 
heart,  imperceptibly,  yet  quickly  sap  more  imaginative 
and  passionate  emotions.  This  substitution  of  ignoble 
sentiments  for  those  of  a  deeper  sort  meets  us  every 
day.  In  truth  the  constant  tendency  or  gravitation  of 
the  human  mind  is  from  the  more  to  the  less  vehe- 
ment class  of  emotions;  and  then  its  progress  is  from 
the  simple  and  ardent,  to  the  complex  and  turbid,  in 
its  habits  of  feeling.  It  is  thus  that  the  sincere  enthu- 
siast so  often  becomes  (perhaps  unconsciously  to  him- 
self) a  religious  knave ;  and  thus  too,  that  the  man 
who  commenced  his  course  of  mortification  and  ex- 


*  After  deducting  from  these  narratives  all  the  miracles,  the  bare 
fact  is  miracle  enough.  These  stories  could  not  have  been  sheer 
inventions.  It  is  difficult  to  choose  among  the  abundance  of  ex- 
amples ; — and  so  much  the  more  difficult,  because  it  is  hard  to  find 
one  in  which  the  venerable  language  of  Holy  Scripture  is  not  fright- 
fully misapplied  to  the  foUies  of  superstition.  The  author  of  the  Book 
de  JMiraculis  Cisterciensium  Monachorum,  thus  speaks  of  one  who,  pro 
Christo  quotidie  moriens,  non  unam  tantum,  sed  innumeras  cruces  et 
mortes  sustinuit:   quia  quot  diebus  in  eremo  vixit,  quasi  tot  martyria 

duxit Annis  siquidem  quatuor  decem  solivagus  ac  toto 

corpore  nudus,  montibus  et  silvis  pro  Christo  amore  oberrans  et 
iatitans  perduravit,  ccelum  habcns  pro  tecto,  aerem  pro  vestimento, 
pecorinum  victum  pro  cibo  liumano.  Ten  years,  without  flinching 
from  his  purpose,  the  hermit  lived  abroad;  but  at  length  yielded  a 
{ittle  to  the  weakness  of  nature.  Postmodum  auteni  quatuor  fere 
annis  ante  suam  dormitionem,  in  corde  hyemis,  bruma  saeviente 
asperrima,  cum  tellus,  nivibus  obruta,  et  gelu  acriore  coercita,  nee 
herbas  foris  exsereret,  ncc  radices  effodi  sineret ;  tunc  a  facie  famis 
et  hujus  frigoris  sustinere  non  praevalens,  tandem  ut  homo  jam  fere 
pnemortuue,  obeso  corpore,  pelle  sola  circumdatus,  cogebatur  interdum 
ceserta  deserere,  atque  ad  proxima  rura,  volendo  nolendo,  deacendere 


76 


OF  THE    SCOURGE. 


FANATICISM 


77 


travagance  under  the  impulse  of  genuine  passions,  and 
who,  at  the  outset,  might  have  been  looked  at  with 
wonder,  if  not  admiration,  degenerates  into  the  char- 
latan or  pubHc  fool. 

3d.  It  is  not  till  after  the  fanatic  has  acquired  some 
familiarity  with  self-inflicted  torments,  and  is  at  ease 
in  his  character  of  voluntary  martyr,  and  especially 
until  he  believes  himself  to  have  reached  a  vantage 
ground  in  relation  to  Vindictive  Powers,  that  he 
entertains  the  bold  ambition  of  undertaking  to  suffer 
vicariously  for  those  who  may  be  less  resolute  than 
himself* 

Master  of  a  fund  of  supererogatory  merit— how 
shall  he  dispose  of  it  to  best  advantage  ?      Can  any 

*  We  pass  by,  as  uninstructive,  the  gross  examples  of  this  kind  of 
fanaticism  which  might  be  brought  from  India  or  Thibet,  and  rather 
adduce  instances  which,  though  milder  in  appearance,  may  well 
amaze  us  more.     Let  us  listen  to  St.  Bernard  :  Videtur  quidem  et  m 
nostris  aliquando  tribulationibus  esse  nonnulla  libertas,  cum  vide- 
licet   pro   peccatis  pronmeruirij   libera   et  liberali  caritate,  laborera 
poenitentiae  sustinemus,  lugtntes  pro  eis,  jejunantes  pro  eis,  vapulantes 
pre  m,  fit  quffl   non  rapuimua   eisolvcntos — (De  DivertiSj  Serm.  34, 
c.  3.)    Yet  the  pious  and  respectable  abbot  of  Clairvaux  wao  not  the 
inventor  of  this  doctrine  ;  nor  on  the  other  hand  ,  had  it  reached  its 
maturity  in  his  time  ;  indeed  his  own  language  is  often  irreconcileable 
with  the   preposterous  notion  of  supererogatory  merit.      Ubi  ergo 
macula  propria,  propria  quoque  purgatio  jure  requiretur,  says  he  ; 
but  in  the  very  same  sermon  {de  Diversis,  38)  he  leaves  room  for  the 
then  nascent  error. — Per  multas  enim  tribulationes  in  regnum  Dei 
intrare  necesse  est ;  et  nemo  nisi  per  tribulationes  ingreditur,  aut 
proprias,  aut  dimas.    An  indistinct  belief  of  a  transferable  merit  in 
the  good  works  and  voluntary  penances  of  the  saints,  is  to  be  traced 
in  many  of  the  Christian  writer*  from  the  fourth  century  and  onward. 
Sed  quid  mirum,says  St.  Crregory  (Pope)  si  ad  absolutionem  pecca« 
tons  propria  merita  suffragantur,  quando  in  sacri  eloquii  auctoritate 
discaraus,  quia  alii  pro   aliis  Uberati  sunt  l—{In  I.  Regunif  c.  14.) 
And  Ambrose,  (de  Pomit.  lib.  i.  c.  15.)  .  .  .  .  Ut  per  universos  ea  quae 
auperflua  sunt  in  aliquo  pcenitentiam  agente  virihs  misericordiae  aut 
compassionis  velut  collativa  quadamadmixitone  purgentur.  Or  again 
{Expos.  Luc.  c.  5.)  Sigravium  peccatorum  diffidis  veniam,  adhibe  pre^ 
catores,  adhibe  Ecclesiam  quae  pro  te  precetur,  cujus  contemplatione 
quod  tibi  Dominus  negare  posset,  ignoscat.     The  task  is  unpleasmg: 
and  invidious  to  gathe^r  proofs  of  fatal  error  from  the  pages  of  writers 
who,  taken  altogether,  are  worthy  of  respect— often  of  admiration. 
We  stop  ihort  then  with  the  specimen!  above  adduced. 


thing  be  more  noble  than  to  dispense  the  hardly- 
acquired  treasure  among  feeble  souls,  who  are  quite 
destitute  of  that  in  which  he  is  rich  ?  Absurdities  such 
as  this  if  not  now  common,  nevertheless,  have  in  past 
ages  often  prevailed,  and  are  not  only  what  may  be 
looked  for  if  we  calculate  the  influence  of  certain  mo- 
tives upon  the  common  principles  of  human  nature. 
That  law  of  our  mental  conformation  has  already  been 
adverted  to  which  makes  it  highly  difficult,  or  quite 
impracticable,  to  kindle  the  imagination  within  the 
home-circle  of  selfish  interests.  The  fanatic,  therefore, 
all  whose  sentiments  are  more  or  less  dependent  upon 
that  faculty,  very  soon  feels  a  need — a  craving,  which 
not  even  the  most  egregious  illusions  of  self-love  can 
satisfy.  He  must  then  spread  himself  over  a  larger 
surface,  and  take  up  many  more  elements  of  emotion. 
Every  mind,  and  especially  a  mind  highly  sensitive, 
seeks  some  object  of  meditation  the  dimensions  of 
which  it  does  not  exactly  measure.  In  moments  of 
depression,  in  hours  of  languor,  we  want  a  defence 
against  the  chilling  calculations  of  mere  reason.  And 
the  more  a  man's  course  of  life  is  substantially  absurd 
the  more  urgent  need  has  he  of  a  store  of  vague 
unlimited  motives,  such  as  shall  he  in  no  danger  of  an 
assault  from  common  sense.  When  the  fanatic  has 
began  to  tire  on  his  wearisome  pilgrimage  of  woe, 
how  may  he  reanimate  his  purpose  if  he  can  think 
himself  a  public  person  who  has  freely  become  respons- 
ible for  other  men's  salvation  ;  and  especially  if  he  can 
believe  that  the  Vindictive  Powers  whom  he  is  hold- 
ing at  bay  with  a  strong  arm,  are  watching  for  the  fall 
of  so  notable  a  champion,  and  would  rush  upon  the 
spoil  were  he  to  faint ! 

And  besides  ;  it  is  only  by  heading-up  the  merit  of 
penance  to  such  a  height  as  that  there  shall  always  be 
a  large  amount  in  store,  that  the  public  martyr  can 
feel  to  be  himself  quite  secure  against  the  demands  of 
justice. — May  not  a  man  who  is  every  day  expiating 
the  sins  of  others  assume  it  as  certain  that  his  own  are 

8* 


78 


FANATICISM 


discharged  ?— Thus  the  warfare  against  ghostly  exact- 
ors is  carried  on  upon  advanced  ground  !  and  the 
knight-spiritual  has  a  space  in  the  rear  to  which,  tf 
pressed,  he  may  retreat. 

A  contrast,  curious  at  least,  and  perhaps  instructive^ 
presents  itself,  when  we  bring  into  comparison  the 
Mohammedan  and  Popish  superstitions,  on  the  ground 
of  the  encouragement  they  have  severally  given  to  the 
practice  of  voluntary  inflictions.    Now  it  appears  that, 
while  the  former  has  not  been  exempt  from  extrava- 
gances of  this  order,  they  have  always  constituted  a 
main  element  of  the  latter ;  the  Romish  polity  and 
doctrine  having  both  broadly  rested  upon  the  principle 
(variously  applied)  of  personal  austerity.    More  causes 
than  can  be  soon  enumerated  have  concurred  to  pro- 
duce this  marked  difference  between  the  religions  of 
Asia  and  of  Europe. — The  oriental  faith  burst  upon  the 
world,  full-orbed,  among  an  energetic  and  enterprising 
race.   It  was  the  religion  of  men,  and  the  faith  of  war- 
riors.   But  the  faith  of  the  West  was  the   slow-born 
creature  of  the  cloister — the  religion  of  recluses  and 
of  priests ;  the  child  of  sour   and  mopish  imbecility. 
The  one  was  modelled  in  the  youthful  season  of  national 
existence  ;  the  other  during  a  course  of  melancholy 
ages  which  saw  the  human  mind  fall   back  from  the 
high  position  it  once  had  occupied,  to  the  point  of 
extreme  depression. 

Yet  a  somewhat  different  doctrine  of  penitential 

infliction  has  sprung  up  from  intellectual  and  moral 

degradation  in   the  instance   of  the   Jewish   people. 

Nothing  can  be  much  more  absurd  or  ludicrous  than 

the  Rabbinical  penances.     It  is  hard  to  believe  that 

the  mortification,  the  abstinence,  or  the  punishment, 

was  ever  thought  of  either  by  those  who  issued  the 

injunction  or  by  those  who  listened  to  it,  otherwise 

than  as   an   acknowledged   mockery.     The   modern 

children  of  Abraham,  suffering  as  they  have  done  in 

almost  every  age,  and  in  every  country,  substantial 

miseries  which  might  be  well  reckoned  to  supersede 


OP  THE   SCOURGE. 


7f 


any  voluntary  pains,  and  yet  not  deeming  their  theol- 
ogy complete  without  penances,  have  taken  care  to 
impose  upon  themselves  such  only  as  were  too  severe 
to  be  put  in  practice,  or  such  as  were  penal  only  in 
name.  Besides ;  the  Rabbinical  Judaism,  with  its  lum- 
ber of  frivolous  traditions,  has  left  no  room  for  the 
working  of  these  profounder  sentiments  whence  the 
monkish  austerities  drew  their  motive.  The  religion 
of  the  modern  Jew,  what  is  it  but  a  ponderous  vanity, 
under  the  pressure  of  which  the  human  bosom  may 
hardly  heave  ? — that  bundle  of  beggarly  elements 
which  he  bears  about  upon  his  shoulders,  allows 
him  not  the  liberty  of  emotion  which  men  of  other 
creeds  enjoy,  and  which  the  fanatic  of  any  creed 
must  possess.* 

*  Maimonides  saw  in  Egypt  enough  of  the  follieg  and  horrors  of 
monkery  to  sicken  him  of  austerities.  On  this  subject  he  speaks  hke 
a  man  of  sense,  and  in  a  strain  of  which,  alas,  we  hnd  few  instances 
among  the  Christian  writers  of  the  time.  He  condemns  as  positively 
sinful,  all  voluntary  inflictions,  not  directly  enjoined  by  the  law,  (see 
Bernard's  Selections  from  the  Yad  Hachazakah,  p.  170,  and  the  entire 
chapter).  The  doctrine  of  Repentance,  as  we  find  it  in  this  writer, 
might  with  advantage  to  the  Jew  be  compared  with  the  Romish  doc- 
trine on  the  same  point,  from  the  age  of  Pope  Gregory  I.  to  the 
present  day.  His  rule  of  confession  (p.  222)  is  incomparably  more 
sound  than  that  of  the  doctors  of  the  church.  But  Maimonides 
must  not  be  taken  as  a  sample  of  Rabbinical  instruction: — he  boldly 
appealed  to  Moses  and  the  prophets. — The  Rabbis  issued   nothing 

which  they  did  not  first  deform  and  render  absurd,     dui,  &c 

diebusque  aestivis  accedat  ad  locum  plenum  formicarum,  inter  quaa 
nudus  sedeat.     Diebus  vero  hybernis,  frangat  glaciem,  et  in  aquis 

sedeat  usque  ad  nares.     Clui,  &c sedeatque  in  aquis  diebus 

hybernis,  quantum  temporis  requiritur  ad  coquendum  ovum,     dui, 

&c jejunet  quadraginta  dies  continuos,  atque  singulis  diebus 

vapulet  bis,  aut  ter.    Q,ui,  &c sedeat  in  nive  et  gelu  per  horam 

unam  singulis  diebus;  sic  faciat  per  totam  hyemem  quotidie  semel, 
aut  bis.  Diebus  vero  aestivis  objiciat  se  muscis,  sive  vcspis  et  apibus; 
aliosve  poenas  subeat  morti  similes.  That  these  penances  were 
matters  of  form  only  one  might  infer  from  the  fact  that  a  forty 
days'  fast  is  enjoined  upon  whosoever  exacts  usury  (interest)  and 
that  the  taking  of  interest  even  from  the  Gentiles  is  reprobated. 
See  the  book  called  Reschit  Cochma,  as  quoted  by  the  annotator  in 
Raimond  Martin's  Pugio  Fidei.  It  is  curious  to  observe  that  the 
practice  of  penance  has  never  comported  with  the  sentiments  and 
habits  of  a  trading  people. 


go  FANATICISM 

But  to  return  to  Mohammed,  and  to  mention  spe- 
cific causes,  it  must  be  noted  that  the  Arabian  teacher, 
by  means  of  his  prime  doctrine  of  the  merit  of  mih- 
tary  service  undertaken  for  the  propagation  of  the 
true  faith,  and  by  the  large  and  attractive  rewards 
promised  to  pious  valour,  appropriated,  to  the  enter- 
prises of  active  life,  all  those  springs  of  action  which, 
when  left  to  pend  upon  the  conscience,  impel  men  to 
inflict  upon  themselves  expiatory  torments.  Beings 
of  the  very  same  native  temperament  who,  in  Chris- 
tian countries,  clad  themselves  in  hair-cloth,  and  mer- 
cilessly twanged  the  scourge  over  their  own  shoul- 
ders, put  on,  in  the  East,  the  caparison  of  war,  and 
wielded  the  cimeter,  and  this  because  the  Koran 
offers  paradise  to  those  who  die  in  battle.* 

A  subsidiary  means  of  diverting  the  fanaticism  of 
personal  austerity  was  also  the  importance  attached 
by  Mohammed  to  alms-giving— almost  the  only  posi- 
tive virtue  of  his  system.  The  aspirant  to  immortal 
sensualities  could  not  indeed  every  day  wet  his  sword 
in  the  blood  of  infidels ;  but  he  might  at  all  times 
purchase,  if  not  always  conquer  for  himself  the  future 
pleasures.  Or  if  the  system  still  seemed  to  want  a 
vent  for  those  feelings"  which  give  rise  to  ascetic 
practices,  it  was  found  in  the  rigour  and  universal 
obligation  of  the  annual  fast,  which  afforded  to  every 
Moslem  such  a  taste  of  mortification  as  might  effec- 
tively cool  the  ambition  of  voluntary  hunger.— The 

*  Verily  God  hath  purchased  of  the  true  believers  their  souls  and 
their  substance,  promising  them  the  enjoyment  of  paradise  on  con- 
dition that  they  fight  for  the  cause  of  God  :  whether  they  slay  or  be 
slain,  the  promise  for  the  same  is  assuredly  due  by  the  law,  the 
gospel,  and  the  Koran.  And  who  performeth  his  contract  more 
faithfully  than  God  ?  When  ye  encounter  the  unbelievers,  strike  off 
their  heads  until  ye  have  made  a  great  slaughter  among  them,  and 

bind  them  in  bonds And  as  to  those  who  fight  in  defence 

of  God's  true  religion,  God  will  not  suffer  their  works  to  perish  :  he 
will  guide  them  and  will  dispose  their  heart  aright,  and  he  will  lead 
them  into  paradise,  of  which  he  hath  told  them.  {Sale's  Koran,  c.  9 
and  27.)  We  shall  presently  find  occasion  to  match  these  passages 
with  some  of  similar  import  from  other  quarters. 


OF   THE    SCOURGE. 


w 


frantic  austerities  of  the  Dervish  did  not  spring  out  of 
the  Mohammedan  theology ;  but  either  grew  upon  it ; 
or  have  been  merely  farcical  and  mercenary ;  or  have 
been  practised  in  continuation  of  idolatrous  usages 
which  the  faith  of  the  Prophet  did  not  extirpate.* 

The  Romish  Superstion  embraced  many  more  ele- 
ments of  meditative  emotion,  and  those  of  a  more 
profound  sort  than  were  included  in  the  Koran.  Al- 
though if  we  are  to  speak  of  it  as  a  whole,  and  espe- 
cially if  we  have  in  view  its  condition  in  the  eigth  and 
ninth  centuries,  Popery  was  a  more  corrupt  system 
than  that  of  the  Arabian  prophet,  so  that  Mohammed 
and  the  Caliphs  may  almost  claim  the  praise  of  reli- 
gious Reformers  ;  yet  did  it  retain  those  potent  princi- 
ples of  hope  and  fear — of  remorse  and  compunction, 
of  tenderness  too,  and  of  keen  sensibility,  which  put 
the  soul  into  deep  commotion,  and  set  it  working  upon 
itself.  On  the  contrary,  Mohammed,  by  strangely 
admitting  into  his  theology  the  expectation  of  a  sensual 
paradise,  the  pleasures  of  which  were  not  to  differ  in 
substance  from  the  delights  of  an  oriental  palace, 
effectirely  cashiered  from  his  system  every  pure  and 
spiritual  conception  of  virtue.f  For  if  the  heaven 
which  a  man  is  thinking  of  as  his  last  home  be  grossly 
voluptuous,  of  what  avail  will  be  fine  abstract  axioms 
or  grave  discourses  to  teach  him  purity  ? 

*  Sooffeeism,  with  its  varieties,  is  a  far  more  ancient  and  a  moro 
widely  spread  system  than  the  doctrine  of  the  prophet.  The  philo- 
aophic  pantheist  of  Persia  and  Upper  India,  the  frantic  fakir,  and  th© 
dervish,  are  personages  of  all  times,  and  of  almost  all  countries. 
The  ascetic  tribe  is  older  than  history,  and  presents  the  same 
general  features  wherever  we  meet  with  it.  In  reading  Arrian'a 
account  of  the  Bramins,  or  Sophists,  as  he  calls  them,  of  India,  one 
might  believe  he  was  describing  so  many  Romish  saints.  Oei  to* 
yvf^vo]  heciT^vToii  01  Co^/oTtt/  {Indian  Hist.).  The  Koran  neither 
created  nor  cherished  infatuations  of  this  kind. 

t  The  contemplative  or  more  refined  class  of  Moslems  have  stre- 
nuously endeavoured  to  put  a  figurative  construction  upon  those 
passages  of  the  Koran  which  describe  Paradise,  and  have  maintained 
that  the  prophet  never  intended  to  be  literally  understood.  The 
mass  of  his  followers  have  taken  things  as  they  found  them. 


83 


FANATICISM 


No  perversion  such  as  this  ever  gained  ground 
among  Christian  nations,  even  in  their  lowest  state  of 
religious  degradation.  And  as  some  spiritual  concep- 
tions of  the  Divine  character,  as  well  as  some  just 
notions  of  the  sanctity  of  the  upper  world  were 
generally  prevalent,  the  correspondent  belief  of  the 
guilt  and  danger  of  man  as  a  sinner  retained  its  force. 
Nevertheless  as,  at  the  same  time,  the  genuine  and 
evangelic  scheme  of  remission  of  sins  was  nullified,  or 
quite'' forgot  ten,  the  tormented  conscience  was  left  to 
contend  as  it  could  with  the  dread  of  future  retri- 
bution. . 

The  doctrine  of  Purgatory  sprang  up  naturally  in 
the  bosoms  of  men  from  this  mortal  conflict  of  fear 
and  conscious  guilt,  with  the  obscure  hope  of  impunity; 
and  although  the  "fond  thing,  vainly  invented,  and 
grounded  upon  no  warranty  of  Scripture,"  may  be 
traced  in  its  elements  to  very  early  times,  and  although 
it  became  at  length,  in  its  practical  bearing,  a  device 
well  adapted  to  serve  the  purposes  of  a  rapacious 
priesthood,  it  should  be  regarded,  in  its  essence,  as 
nothing  more  than  the  proper  product  of  elevated  and 
spiritual  notions  of  virtue,  cut  off  from  that  solace 
which  the  Gospel  affords.  Some  opinion  equivalent 
to  the  doctrine  of  purgatory,  has  been  seen,  even  in 
our  own  times,  to  be  associated  with  the  two  con- 
ditions, namely— a  damaged   Gospel,  and  a  severe 

morality. 

It  belongs  to  another  subject,  namely  Superstition, 
to  trace  the  origin  and  growth  of  the  doctrine  of  Pur- 
gatory. This  ancient  and  widely-diffused  dogma  went 
hand  in  hand  with  that  which  led  to  the  invocation  of 
saints,  and  the  belief  of  their  efficient  intercession  in 
the  court  of  heaven.  The  latter  doctrine  seems  to 
have  been  ripened,  or  to  have  reached  a  definite  form 
rather  earlier  than  the  former;  nor  is  the  mode  of  its 
birth  quite  so  obscure.  When  at  length  both  had 
become  the  accredited  doctrine  of  the  church,  a  brisk 
commerce  between  the  visible  and  invisible  worlds 


OF   THE    SCOURGE. 


83 


was  carried  on,  and  in  this  traffic  the  clergy  were  the 
brokers  and  the  gainers — the  gainers  to  an  incalculable 
amount.* 

The  idea  of  future  expiatory  torments  having  lodged 
itself  firmly  in  all  serious  and  devout  minds,  no  other 
consequence  could  be  looked  for  but  the  practice  of 
penitentiary  inflictions,  having  for  their  motive  the 
hope  of  abating  the  demands  of  justice  in  the  region 
of  chastisement.  The  most  excessive  abstinence,  a 
shirt  of  haircloth,  a  bed  of  straw,  continued  w^atchings. 


*  Not  only  the  doctrine  of  Purgatory,  but  the  practical  abuses  of 
it,  stand  forth  almost  in  the  grossest  form  in  the  writings  of  Gregory 
the  Great ;  and  it  would  be  really  hard  to  choose  between  the  faith  of 
the  Christian  Pope,  on  this  subject,  and  that  of  his  contemporary — 
Mohammed; — both  announcing  eternal  damnation  as  the  doom  of 
the  uninstructed  mass  of  mankind  ;  and  both  preaching  a  purgatorial 
state  to  those  whose  religious  advantages  were  of  the  highest  kind. 
Assuredly  the  Koran  is  more  free  from  suspicion  of  a  sinister  purpose 
on  this  point  than  are  the  Dialogues  of  Gregory: — if  indeed  these 
dialogues  can  be  trusted  to  as  the  unaltered  productions  of  the  writer 
to  whom  they  are  attributed  j — or  are  his  productions  at  all — a  point 
deemed  questionable. 

A  service  perhaps  might  be  rendered  to  sincere  and  candid  Ro- 
manists if  the  history  of  this  doctrine — a  capital  article  in  his  belief, 
and  one  whicJi  he  knows  to  be  of  high  antiquity,  could  be  satisfactorily 
traced.  Our  materials,  it  is  to  be  feared,  are  too  scanty  to  sustain  the 
inquiry ;  for  between  the  close  of  the  apostolic  age  and  the  time  of 
Cyprian  or  Tertullian,  more  is  wanted  than  actually  exists  to  enable 
U3  to  give  a  good  account  of  the  state  of  the  opinion  as  we  find  it  in 
the  pages  of  those  two  writers.  The  expression  so  often  quoted  by 
the  Romanists,  from  Tertullian, — Oblationes  pro  defunctis,  pro 
natalitiis  annua  die  facimus  {de  Corona)  is  not  of  itself  conclusive ; 
but  becomes  so  as  compared  with  other  passages.  Die  mihi  soror,  in 
pace  proBmisisti  virum  tuum?  Gluid  respondebit?  An  in  discordia? 
Ergo  hoc  magis  ei  vincta  est,  curn  quo  habet  apud  Deum  causam.  .  . 
Enimvero  et  pro  anima  ejus  orat,  et  refrigerium  interim  adpostulat 
ei,  et  in  prima  resurrectione  consortium,  et  ofTert  annuls  diebua 
dormitionis  ejus.  {De  JMonogam).  Everyone  has  seen  quotations 
to  the  same  eflR!ct  from  Cyprian,  Clemens  Alexandrinus,  and  Cyril  of 
Jerusalena.  But  in  these,  and  similar  instances,  the  true  import  of 
certain  phrases  is  to  be  gathered  from  each  writer's  general  strain  on 
those  topics  which  are  most  nearly  allied  to  the  opinion  in  question: 
especially  on  the  subject  of  repentance  and  remission  of  sins.  The 
doctrine  of  purgatory,  it  is  pretty  evident,  sprang  out  of  an  early 
corruption  of  those  principal  articles.  Here  we  find  a  confusion  of 
notions,  and  a  perverted  exposition  of  Scripture;  in  almost  the  earliest 
of  the  Christian  writers 


84 


FANATICISM 


perpetual  silence,  sanguinary  flagellations,  and  positive 
tortures,  were  willingly  resorted  to  as  assuagements 
of  the  dread  which  the  belief  of  purgatory  inspired ; 
and  if  we  are  to  wonder  at  all  in  looking  at  these 
severities,  our  amazement  must  be,  not  that  men  could 
be  found  who  were  wilhng  to  submit  heartily  and 
permanently  to  the  rule  of  St.  Benedict,  or  St.  Dom- 
inic ;  but  rather  that  the  miseries  of  the  monastic  life 
were  not  carried  to  a  much  greater  extent  than  we 
actually  find  them  ordinarily  to  have  reached.  It 
would  not  have  seemed  strange  if  sincere  believers  in 
the  doctrine  of  purgatory  had  gone  the  length  of  the 
ancient  worshippers  of  Baal,  or  of  the  modern  devotees 
of  Indian  divinities.* 

It  is  in  the  glare  of  a  doctrine  such  as  this  that  we 
should  peruse  the  rules  of  the  ascetic  life,  and  the 
blood-stained  story  of  the  monastery.  Is  it  any  won- 
der that  men  who  first  had  tortured  themselves  at  the 
instigation  of  this  belief  should  think  it  a  light  matter 
to  ply  the  rack  and  the  brand  upon  others  ? — The  fan- 
aticism of  austerity  was  proper  parent  of  the  fanati- 
cism of  cruelty.  But  the  mild  and  meditative  spirit 
of  Christianity  happily  came  in  to  moderate,  in  some 
degree,  that  extravagance  into  which  the  human  mind 
naturally  runs  when  highly  excited  by  a  ferocious  the- 
ology.—The  Christian  flagellist  might,  it  is  probable, 
draw  as  much  blood  from  his  back  in  a  year,  as  did  the 
frantic  priest  of  Moloch  from  his  sides  and  arms ; — or 

*  The  Romish  writers  use  no  reserve  in  describing  the  pains  of 
the  purgatorial  state ;  and  as  they  have,  in  the  doctrine  itself,  supplied 
to  the  Church  an  article  on  which  Scripture  is  silent ;  so,  in  furnish- 
ing the  particulars,  have  they  drawn  largely  upon  that  special  knowl- 
edge of  the  infernal  regions  which  their  privileged  commerce  with 
invisibles  has  supplied.  "  A  soul,"  says  the  Rev.  Alban  Butler,  "  for 
one  venial  sin  shall  suffer  more  than  all  the  pains  ot  distempers,  the 
most  violent  colics,  gout,  and  stone,  joined  in  complication ;  more 
than  all  the  most  cruel  torments  undergone  by  malefactors,  or  in- 
Tented  by  the  most  barbarous  tyrants ;  more  than  all  the  tortures  of 
the  martyrs  summed  up  together.  This  is  the  idea  which  the  fathers 
give  us  of  purgatory,  and  how  long  many  souls  may  have  to  luffer 
there  we  know  not."— Lives  of  the  Saints,  Novem.  2. 


OF    THE    SCOURGE. 


85 


perhaps  more ;  but  yet  it  were  better  done  with  the 
Scourge  than  with  the  Knife.  The  Romish  fanaticism 
did  not  rise  to  a  horrid  and  murderous  pitch  until  after 
it  had  become  the  instrument  of  sacerdotal  rancour, 
and  had  been  directed  against  the  heretic. 

The  derivation  of  fanatical  cruelty  from  fanatical 
austerity  it  is  by  no  means  diflicult  to  trace ;  nor 
is  the  line  of  descent  far  extended.  Often  indeed 
has  the  one  generated  the  other  in  the  same  bosom ; 
or  if  the  historv  of  the  Church  is  looked  to  it  will  be 
seen  that,  within  the  circuit  of  a  century,  or  more, 
those  outrages  upon  human  nature  which  had  been 
going  on  in  the  cells  of  the  monastery,  and  those  pre- 
posterous sentiments  which  the  ascetic  life  enkindled, 
reached  their  proper  consummation  when  the  friar  and 
inquisitor  took  in  hand  to  rid  the  church  of  her  ene- 
mies. Far  was  any  such  consequence  from  the  minds 
of  the  early  and  illustrious  promoters  of  the  monastic 
system ;  but  though  not  foreseen  by  them,  it  demands 
to  be  attentively  regarded  by  us,  since  the  instruction 
which  history  conveys  is  drawn  from  considering, 
rather  the  commencements  than  the  issues,  rather  the 
germs  than  the  fruits,  of  whatever  excites  admiration 
or  surprise  upon  the  stage  of  the  world's  aflfairs. 

And  so,  if  it  be  intended  to  receive  in  the  most  effi- 
cacious manner  those  lessons  of  practical  wisdom 
which  sprinor  from  the  contemplation  of  individual 
character,  we  must  select  as  specimens,  not  the  most 
distorted  instances ;  but  those  rather  wherein  the 
peculiar  tendency  we  have  in  view  is  moderated  by 
fine  qualities  of  the  heart,  or  lost  almost  amid  the  splen- 
dour of  rare  mental  powers  and  accomplishments. — 
For  inasmuch  as  it  is  only  when  so  recommended  that 
spurious  virtues  produce  extensive  ill  eflfects,  our  cau- 
tion against  the  evil  should  be  drawn  from  examples  of 
that  very  order.  Let  the  sardonic  historian,  whose 
rule  it  is  to  exhibit  human  nature  always  as  an  object 
of  mockery,  crowd  his  pages  with  whatever  is  most 
preposterous  in  its  kind. — A  better  motive  will  lead  us 

y 


86 


FANATICISM 


to  bring  forward  the  worthiest  exemplars ;  and  yet 
not  as  if  the  illustrious  dead  were  to  be  exhibited  that 
it  might  be  said  of  them  how  little  were  the  great  1  but 
rather  ihat  the  admonition,  of  whatever  kind,  which 
the  instance  presents  may  come  with  the  fullest  force. 
Forgetting  then  the  frenzied  anchorets  of  the  Egyp- 
tian deserts,  of  the  rocks  of  Sinai,  and  of  the  solitudes  of 
Syria,  and  leaving  unnamed  the  savage  heroes  of  the 
Romish  calendar,^  let  us  take  an  instance  in  which  a 
due  admiration  of  great  qualities  must  mingle  with  our 
reprobation  of  mischievous  sentiments.  Instead  of  a 
St.  Symeon,  or  a  St.  Columban  ,we  turn  to  Basil — the 
primate  of  Cappadocia.f 

♦No  literary  enterprise  can  well  be  named,  or  perhaps  thought  of 
more  undesirable — more  humiliating — at  least  if  a  man  retains  any 
feeling  of  self-respect,  than  that  which  the  worthy  and  learned  author 
of  the  Lives  of  the  Saints  has  executed. — The  Romish  Church  is  rich 
in  the  boast  of  upwards  of  a  thousand  saints — a  number  so  large  tha* 
she  is  able  to  allot  as  many  as  three  or  four  glorious  patrons,  on   an 
everage,  to  each  day  of  the  year!     Now  most  men  would  think  it  a 
formidable  task   to  undertake  merely  a  cold  apology  of  every  one  of 
any  thousand  frail  human  beings  that  could  be  brought  together  in  a 
list.     But  what  must  it  be,  not  simply  to  excuse,  but  to  commend 
every  one  of  a  thousand?  And  what,  not  only  to  commend  but  to 
find  proof  that  every  one  is  a  fit  object  of  adoration,  and  an  efficacious 
mediator  between  God  and  man  !     Yet  such  is  the  achievment  that 
signalizes  the  name  of  Alban  Butler  !     A  thousand  samts,  one  after 
another,  to  be  hoisted  upon  the  pedestal  of  canonization,  or  defended 
there  !     Truly  one  of  the  loftiest  of  these  enviable  standing  places 
should  be  reserved  for  the  author  himself!     Those  who,  without  a 
cause  to  serve,  or  a  church  to  prop  (or  to  pull  down)  look  calmly  at 
human  nature  as  it  is,  and  who  read  history  ibr  themselves,  will,  with 
a    sort  of   mournful  contempt    bring  into  comparison  the  foolish 
exaggerations  of  Butler  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  malign  misrepre- 
sentations of  Gibbon  on  the  other ;  and  will   learn  to   hold   very 
cheap,  as  well  eulogists  as  calumniators,  when  it  is  truth  we  are  in 
search  of. 

I  Let  ninety-nine  of  every  hundred  of  the  Saints  of  the  Calendar 
retain  their  title.  If  the  Romanists  please,  it  shall  be  Saint  George, 
Saint  Dunstan,  Saint  Dominic,  and  so  forth  ;  but  we  are  disposed  to 
withhold  the  sullied  honour  from  the  few  whom  we  believe,  notwith- 
standing the  misfortune  of  their  canonization,  to  have  been  good  and 
honest  men,  and  sincere  Christians.  And  certainly  we  so  think  of 
Basil  of  Cappadocia.  He  governed  the  churches  of  that  province 
rather  more  than  eight  years,  during  the  reigns  of  Valentinian  and 
Valens. 


OF    THE    SCOURGE. 


87 


But  how  obtain  the  simple  and  living  truth  in  the 
instance  we  have  chosen?     Nothing  belonging  to  that 
age  in  which  the  Church  ascended  to  the   place  of 
worldly  greatness  is  to  be  found  in  its  native  form  and 
real  colours.   Flattery  and  clerical  arrogance  confound 
all   distinctions,  violate  all  modesty,  and  in  the  inter- 
ested idolatry  of  human   excellence,  commit  frightful 
outrages  upon  the  just  rules  of  piety.     Those  calum- 
niators of  his  friend  and  patron  against  whom  Gregory 
Nazianzen  invieghs,*  could  not  have  injured  the  true 
fame  of  Basil   so  fatally  as  himself  has  done  by  his 
hyperbolic  encomiums.     We  turn  as  well  with  suspi- 
cion as  disgust  from  the  turgid  oration,!  and  are  fain 
to  relinquish  the  attempt  to  rescue  a  good  and  accom- 
plished man  from  the  suffocating  embrace  of  his  eulo- 
gist.    Well  might  a  warning  be  taken  by  the  Church, 
even  now,  against  the  danger  of  indulging  the  spirit  of 
exaggeration  and  of  fond  adulatory  regard  to  the  illus- 
trious dead.     It  was  this  very  spirit  as  much  as  any 
other  influence  we  can  name,  which  effected  the  ruin 
and  hastened   the  corruption  of  early  Christianity. — 
Hence,  directly,  sprang  some  of  the  very  worst  errors 
which  in  a  matured  state  strengthened  the  despotism 
of  Rome,  and  made  its  services  idolatrous,  and  its 
practices  abominable. 

A  reasonable  distaste  of  the  inflation  which  offends 
the  eye  so  often  on  the  pages  of  the  early  Christian 


♦See  the  funeral  oration  in  praise  of  Basil,  Morell's  Greg.  Nazi- 
anzen, 16S0,  Tom.  I.  pp.  360,  363. 

jThe  twentieth  oration  above  referred  to,  lcr/Ta<^/o«,  in  which 
Gregory  exhausts  the  powers  of  language  in  the  service  of  his 
deceased  friend  and  spiritual  father;  upon  whom  indeed,  while 
living  he  had  lavished  the  hyperpolas  of  praise  ;  as  in  the  sixth, 
seventh,  and  nineteenth  orations,  and  in  various  places  of  his 
Epistles.  Could  the  simplicity  of  the  Gospel,  and  the  honour  of 
Christ  comport  with  that  style  of  adulation  which  in  the  age  of 
Gregory  was  accredited  and  common  in  the  Church  ?  The  epistle, 
the  nineteenth,  in  which  he  excuses  himself  from  the  charge  of 
neglecting  his  friend,  would  astound  the  modern  reader.  No  wonder 
that  those  should  have  fallen  into  an  idolatry  of  the  saints  in  heaven, 
who  had  already  gone  so  far  in  worshipping  one  another. 


88 


FANATICISM 


writers  (as  well  as  motives  of  indolence  or  levity) 
has  almost  cut  us  oft'  from  correspondence  with 
the  worthies  of  the  ancient  Church  ;  so  that  men 
whose  vigour  of  mind,  whose  copious  eloquence,  and 
whose  universal  learning,  should  attract  us  to  the  pe- 
rusal of  their  works,  are  little  more  thought  of  than  the 
demigods  of  the  Grecian  mythology.  Yet  undoubt- 
edly by  this  oblivion  we  not  only  forfeit  the  advantage 
of  justly  estimating  things  that  are^  by  comparison  with 
things  that  have  been  ;  but  fail  of  that  special  and 
highly  important  benefit  which  an  exact  knowledge  of 
history  conveys,  namely — a  timely  caution  against  the 
first  inroads  of  insidious  errors  and  spurious  senti- 
ments. 

It  may  be  too  much  to  affirm  that  Basil,  eminent  as 
were  his  qualities,  or  indeed  that  any  single  mind  could 
have  turned  the  tide  which,  at  the  opening  of  the  fourth 
century,  was  in  full  course,  bearing  the  Christian 
world — eastern  and  western,  fast  toward  that  swamp 
of  superstition  wherein  all  its  virtues  were  soon  after 
lost.  Yet  it  is  certain  that  although  he  might  not  have 
had  power  to  divert  the  course  of  things,  his  influence 
was  great  and  extensive  in  accelerating  the  unhappy 
movement.  As  well  in  the  Latin  as  the  Greek  Church, 
and  during  many  successive  centuries,  the  writings  of 
Basil  formed  the  text  book  of  monkery,  and  gave  sanc- 
tion to  its  follies.*  His  friend  and  biographer  assures 
us,  and  his  own  writings  attest  the  fact,  that,  not  like 


*  The  praises  of  Basil  and  of  his  institutions  are  on  the  lips  of 
most  of  the  contemporary  and  succeeding  church  writer?,  as  well 
Latins  as  Greeks  ;  and  most  of  the  oriental  monkish  establishments 
were  founded  upon  the  model  of  which  he  was  the  author.  Isidore, 
(Lib.  I.  Epist.  61,)  reproaches  one  who,  while  he  professed  high  regard 
to  the  words  of  our  divinkly  inspired  fathkr — Basil,  practicall3'set 
his  authority  at  naught.  Equivalent  expressions  are  employed  by 
other  wfiters.  By  a  strange  catachresis  the  monastic  rule  was  called 
generally  by  the  writers  of  that  age  (as  by  Isidore  in  the  epistle  here 
referred  to)  xctvcof  (pi\oo-o(Pictq,  and  the  institution  itself  the  true  and 
divine  philosophy.  See  a  fond  and  frequent  use  of  this  phrase  ia  tUo 
epistles  of  Gregory  Nazianzen. 


OF    THE    SCOURGE. 


89 


many  who  so  long  as  their  private  interests  go  well, 
trouble  themselves  not  at  all  on  account  of  the  evils 
that  may  prevail  abroad,  Basil  anxiously  occupied 
himself  witli  whatever  concerned  the  welfare  of  the 
Christian  community  throughout  the  world  :*  and 
seeing  the  Church  "  split  into  ten  thousand  sects,  and 
distracted  with  errors,"f  laboured,  as  well  by  his  writ- 
ings as  by  personal  interposition,  to  remedy  the  exist- 
ing evils.  Nor  were  his  labours  without  fruit.  The 
specific  heresies  with  which  he  contended  were  held 
in  check  by  his  eloquence,  and  by  the  weight  of  his 
personal  character, — False  dogmas  he  discerned,  and 
refuted  ;  but  alas,  the  false  temper  of  the  times — the 
universal  wrong  tendency  of  men's  notions  of  religion 
and  piety,  this  he  did  not  discern  ;  on  the  contrary, 
while  fighting  with  errors  in  the  detail,  himself  im- 
mensely promoted  the  grand  error  which  had  already 
poisoned  the  Church,  and  which,  after  a  century  or 
two,  laid  her  prostrate  as  a  corrupting  carcase.  So 
it  is  that  what  is  special  we  can  see  :  what  is  general 
escapes  our  notice. — A  hundred  times,  while  following 
Basil  through  his  track  of  cogent  argument  and  splen- 
did illustration,  one  stops  to  ask.  Why  did  not  so  com- 
prehensive and  penetrating  an  intelligence  question 
itself,  and  question  the  Christian  body,  concerning  the 

*  .  .  .  «AA'  J-v^oy  T/)v  K£(puXriv  S^iupu^,  tea)  kukXcm)  to  t>5$  "^vyjr^g 
siA.fj.'x  Trepiayxyav,  Trudccv  iItu  itoiilrai  rrfV  oiKovf4.ev>}y,  oo-i}\i  o 
o-arr/ptog  X6y«5  i7ri^pxf>tev.  Greg.  JNaz.  Oral.  20.  His  assertion  is 
borne  out  by  several  passages  in  Basil's  own  writings,  from  which  it 
appears  that  the  state  of  the  Church  universal  was  the  subject  of  his 
frequent  (and  not  very  happy)  meditations :  for  instance,  in  his  treatise 
on  the  Holy  Spirit,  c.  30,  where,  with  admirable  force  of  language 
and  vigour  of  conception,  he  makes  a  comparison  between  the 
distracted  state  of  the  Church,  and  a  sea-fight  during  a  storm :  or 
again  in  that  remarkable  epistle  to  the  bishops  of  the  West,  in  which 
he  entreats  them  to  send  delegates  to  the  eastern  church,  who  might 
raise  it  from  the  dust.  The  same  catholic  and  patriarchal  sohcitude 
appears  in  his  epistles  to  Athanasius,  and  in  those  of  similar  import, 
to  the  bishops  of  Gaul  and  Italy.  Basil's  monasticism  did  not  at  all 
seclude  him  from  public  interests. 

9* 


90 


FANATICISM 


soundness  of  its  first  principles  of  practical  piety? 
Why  not  inquire  whether  a  system  of  conduct  mani- 
festly at  variance  with  the  course  of  nature,  and  with 
the  constitutions  of  the  social  economy,  was  indeed  en- 
joined by  Scripture,  or  could,  in  its  issue,  be  safe  and 
advantageous?  Not  a  surmise  of  this  sort,  so  far  as 
we  can  find,  ever  disturbed  the  meditations  of  the 
Cappadocian  primate. — No  ;  —  but  these  only  inay 
fairly  blame  and  wonder  who  themselves  are  habituat- 
ed to  entertain  and  indulge  severe  inquiries  concerning 
the  opinions  and  usages  they  most  zealously  affect. 

Far  from  seeming  fanatical  or  malignant,  the  mon- 
astic system,  as  it  stands  on  the  shining  pages  of  Basil, 
bears  quite  a  seductive  form.  His  descriptions  of  his 
own  seclusion  among  the  mountains  of  Pontus,  and 
of  the  pleasures  of  abstracted  meditation  and  holy  ex- 
ercise, can  hardly  be  read  without  kindling  an  enthu- 
siasm of  the  same  order.*     In  his  ascetic  rules  too 


*  It  was  customary  with  the  monks  of  a  later  age  to  select  for  the 
site  of  their  establishments  the  most  horrid  and  pestilential  swamps, 
and  this  professedly  with  the  intention  of  mortifying  the  senses,  and 
of  rendenng  life  as  undesirable  and  as  brief  too  as  possible.  Not  so 
Basil :  fully  alive  to  the  beauties  of  nature,  he  exults  in  his  enjoyment 
of  them.  The  following  description  though  perhaps  too  long  for  a 
note,  tempts  us  to  turn  aside  a  moment  from  our  path.  Addressing 
the  friend  of  his  youth,  Basil  says — In  Pontus  God  hath  shewn  me  a 
spot  precisely  suited  to  my  turn  of  mind  and  habits. — In  truth  it  is 
the  very  scene  which  heretofore,  while  idly  musing  I  had  been  wont 
to  picture  to  myself.  It  is  a  lofty  mountain,  enveloped  in  dense 
forests:  on  its  northern  front  it  is  watered  by  gelid  streams  that 
sparkle  to  the  eye  as  they  descend.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill  a  grassy 
plain  spreads  itself  out,  and  luxuriates  in  the  moisture  that  distils 
perpetually  from  the  heights.  Around  the  level  space  the  woods, 
presenting  trees  of  every  species,  take  an  easy  sweep,  so  as  to  form  a 
natural  rampart.  Calypso's  isle,  so  much  praised  by  Homer,  one 
might  contemn  in  comparison  with  this  spot:  in  fact  itself  might 
almost  be  called  an  island,  since  it  is  completely  encircled  and  shut 
in — on  two  sides,  by  deep  and  precipitous  ravines;  on  another,  by 
the  fall  of  a  never-faihng  torrent,  not  easily  forded,  and  which  like  a 
wall  excludes  intruders.  In  the  rear  the  jagged  and  uneven  heights, 
with  a  semicircular  turn,  rise  from  the  skirts  of  the  plain,  and  deny 
access,  except  through  a  single  pass,  of  which  we  are  masters.  My 
habitation  occupies  the  ridge  of  a  towering  height,  whence  the  land- 
scape, with  the  many  bends  of  the  river,  spreads  itself  fairly  to  the 
view,  and  presents,  altogether  a  prospect  not  inferior,  as  I  think,  in 


OF    THE    SCOURGE. 


91 


there  is  very  much  of  admirable  and  elevated  senti- 
n)ent,  and  of  scriptural  discretion  ;  as  well  as  a  thorough 
orthodoxy.  More  easy  is  it  to  yield  the  heart  and  judg- 
ment to  the  persuasive  influence  of  the  writer,  than  to 
stand  aloof,  and  call  in  question  his  principles. 

Nor  perhaps,  apart  from  the  aid  of  that  comment 
which  the  after  history  of  the  Church  has  made  upon 
those  principles,  would  it  have  been  easy  to  demon- 
strate their  pernicious  tendency:  and  yet  there  is  little 
or  nothing  amonj?  the  enormities  of  the  ascetic  life 
which  might  not  be  justified  on  the  grounds  assumed 
by  Basil : — as  for  example.  That  the  domestic  consti- 
tution of  man  is  abstractedly  imperfect,  and  irrecon- 
cilable with  high  attainments  in  piety.* — That  Religion 


gay  attractions,  to  that  which  is  offered  by  the  course  of  the  river 
Strymon,  as  seen  from  Amphipolis.  That  stream  indeed  moves  so 
slngijishly  in  its  bed,  as  hardly  to  deserve  the  name  of  river;  but 
this  on  the  contrary  (the  most  rapid  I  have  ever  seen)  rushes  on  to 
a  neighbouring  rock,  whence  thrown  off^  it  tumbles  into  a  deep  vortex 
in  a  manner  that  excites  the  admiration  of  every  beholder.  From  the 
reservoir  thus  formed  we  are  abundantly  supplied  with  water  y  nor  only 
so,  for  it  nourishes  in  its  stormy  bosom  a  multitude  of  fishes.  What 
might  I  not  say  of  the  balmy  exhalations  that  arise  from  this  verdant 
region,  or  of  the  breezes  that  attend  the  flow  of  the  river?  or  some 
perhaps  would  rather  speak  of  the  endless  variety  of  flowers  that 
adorn  the  ground,  or  of  the  innumerable  singing  birds  that  make  our 
woods  their  home.  For  my  own  part,  my  mind  is  too  deeply 
engaged  to  give  much  attention  to  these  lesser  matters.  To  our 
commendation  of  this  seclusion  we  are  moreover  able  to  add  the 
praise  of  an  unbounded  fruilfulness  in  all  kinds  of  produce,  favoured 
as  it  is  by  its  position  and  soil  To  me  its  principal  charm  (and  a 
greater  cannot  be)  is  this — that  it  yields  me  the  fruits  of  tranquillity. 
For  not  only  is  the  region  far  remote  from  the  tumult  of  cities,  but  it 
is  actually  unfrequented  by  travellers  of  any  sort,  a  few  huntsmen 
excepted,  who  make  their  way  hither  in  search  of  the  game  which 
abounds  in  it.  This  indeed  is  another  of  its  advantages;  for  though 
we  lack  the  ferocious  bear  and  the  wolf  that  afflict  your  country,  we 
have  deer  and  goats,  sylvan  flocks,  and  hares,  and  other  animals  of 
the  sort 

Who  would  not  turn  monk  if  he  might  lead  the  angelic  life  in  a 
paradise  such  as  that  of  Basil  ? 

*  Throughout  the  ascetic  writings  of  Basil  every  thing  commend- 
able or  desirable  in  the  spiritual  economy  is  assumed  to  attach 
exclusively  to  that  mode  of  life  which  could  be  followed  only  in  the 
monastery ;  nor  does  he  think  it  practicable  to  maintain  faith  and 
virtue  in  the  opea  world,  or  while  encompassed  with  the  cares  and 


92 


FANATICISM 


— or  at  least  that  the  only  admirable  order  of  religion, 
consists — not  in  the  worthy  and  fruitful  exercise  of 
virtuous  principles  amid  the  occasions  and  trials  of 
common  life;  but  in  cutting  off  all  opportunities  of 
exercise,  and  in  retreating  from  every  trial  of  con- 
stancy : — That,  in  a  word,  piety  is  a  something  which 
in  every  sense  is  foreign  to  the  present  state,  and  can 
flourish  only  in  proportion  as  its  laws  and  constitutions 
are  contemned  and  discarded. 

The  first  practical  measure  necessary  for  giving 
effect  to  maxims  such  as  these,  was  of  course  that  of 
breaking  up  the  conjugal  economy,  and  of  gathering 
men  and  women  (destined  by  God  for  each  other  as 
sharers  in  the  jojs  of  life,  and  helpers  in  its  labours 
and  sorrows)  into  horrid  fraternities  and  comfortless 
sisterhoods  of  virginity.*  This  violence  once  done  to 
nature — and  then  every  lesser  enormity  was  only  a 
proper  consequence  and  a  consistent  part  of  the 
monstrous  invention.    All  fanaticism — all  cruelties,  all 


duties  Toy  jco/voy/3<ov.  Not  so  Paul  and  Peter.  In  a  letter  to  his 
friend  Gregory  Nazianzen,  after  describing  the  distractions  of  ordinary 
life,  and  the  cares  of  matrimony,  he  says — From  all  which  there  is 
only  one  way  of  escape — namely,  an  entire  separation  from  thia 
world: — uot  indeed  a  being  absent  from  it  corporeally;  but  a  rending 
of  the  soul  from  every  bodily  affection ; — to  be  no  citizen — to  have 
no  home — no  property — no  friends — to  be  destitute,  and  in  absolute 
want  —  to  have  no  concerns  or  occupation — to  be  cut  off  from 
commerce  with  the  world — to  be  ignorant  of  human  learning; — and 
so  to  prepare  the  heart  for  the  due  reception  of  the  divine  instructions. 
Such  were  the  principles  which  this  good  man  diffused  throughout  the 
Christian  world : — himself  did  by  no  means  carry  them  out  fully  into 
practice — this  part  was  left  for  his  admirers.  So  it  is  that  great 
minds  indulge  in  exaggerations  which  small  minds  interpret  hterally 
to  their  cost.  Ii  would  be  useless  to  quote  fifty  passages  of  hke 
import — a  hundred  might  be  found. 

*  The  author  of  the  Lives  of  the  Saints  would  fain  rid  the  repu- 
tation of  St.  Basil  of  the  ambiguous  honour  of  having  written  the 
tract  on  Virginity.  If  there  be  a  doubt  on  this  point,  we  will  assuredly 
give  the  Archbishop  and  the  Monk  of  Caesarea  the  benefit  of  it. 
Whether  it  be  his  or  not,  the  doctrine  it  maintains  is  in  substance, 
though  not  in  so  unpleasing  a  form,  found  in  his  unquestioned  writ- 
ings. The  passages  that  might  the  most  aptly  be  quoted  in  this 
instance,  are  best  left  in  their  concealment  of  Greek. 


OF   THE    SCOURGE. 


93 


impurities  were  in  embryo  within  this  egg.*  Strange 
does  it  seem — or  strange  to  us  of  this  age ;  that  the 
authors  and  promoters  of  the  unnatural  usage,  while 
reading  the  evangelic  records,  did  not  see  that  the 
virtue  of  our  Lord  and  of  his  Apostles,  if  we  are  not 
to  think  it  quite  inferior  to  that  of  which  the  monks 
made  their  boast,  was  altogether  unlike  it,  and  must 
have  been  founded  on  different  maxims.  Of  our  Lord 
it  is  said  that  he  was  continually  accompanied  in  his 
journeys  by  women  who  "  ministered  unto  him." 
But  the  doctors  of  monkery  assure  us  that  the  society 
of  woman  is  altogether  pernicious,  and  wholly  incom- 
patible with  advancement  in  the  Christian  life; — yes, 
that  the  mere  touch  of  a  female  hand  is  mortal  to 
sanctity  If  The  sanctity  of  the  monk  then,  and  the 
purity  of  the  Son  of  God  had  not,  it  is  manifest,  any 
kindred  elements. — Of  the  Apostles  and  first  disciples 
it  is  said  that  they  consorted  together  "with  the 
women,"  and  throughout  the  history  of  the  Acts 
nothing  appears  to  have  attached  to  the  manners  of 
Christians  that  was  at  variance  with  the  genuine  sim- 
plicity and  innocence  which  is  the  characteristic  of  a 
virtuous  intercourse  of  the  sexes.  The  "  angelic  life," 
described  and  lauded  by  every  Father,  from  Tertul- 
lian,  to  the  Abbot  of  Clairvaux,  is  not  any  where  to 
be  traced  in  the  authentic  story  of  the  first  and  purest 
years  of  the  Christian  Institution.  Why  was  not  a 
fact  so  conspicuous  perceived  by  Chrysostom,  by 
Gregory,  by  Basil  ?  Alas  !  such  is  the  original  limita- 
tion, or  such  the  superinduced  infatuation  of  the 
human  mind,  that,  when  once  it  takes  a  wrong  path, 
not  the  most  eminent  powers  of  reason,  nor  the  most 
extensive  accomplishments  avail  to  give  it  a  suspicion 
of  its  error  ! 


*  The  subject  of  celibacy,  and  its  influence  on  the  character,  must 
again,  and  more  copiously  be  treated.     See  next  section. 

t  We  turn  for  a  moment  from  Basil,  who  nevertheless  is  strong 
on  this  point.  "So  far  as  possible,"  says  Isidore,  "all  converse 
with  women  is  to  be  shunned:    or  if  this  cannot  altogether  be 


94 


FANATICISM 


All  that  could  be  done  by  a  vigorous  and  compre- 
hensive mind,  well  furnished  with  Scriptural  prin- 
ciples, to  render  the  monastic  institute  as  good  as  its 
nature  admitted,  was  actually  effected  by  Basil  ;*  and 
his  ascetic  writings — his  Rules,  the  longer  and  the 
shorter,  and  his  monastic  constitutions,  if  they  could, 
in  translation,  be  purged  of  their  characteristic  asceti- 
cism, would  form  an  excellent  and  edifying  body  of 
instructions  in  the  practice  of  piety. — But  our  time  and 
labour  might  be  better  spent.  Happily  the  principles 
and  maxims  of  religion  we  can  draw  from  purer 
sources  ;  and  while  it  is  unquestionably  incumbent 
upon  the  few  who  aspire  to  exercise  a  correct  and  com- 
prehensive judgment  concerning  the  various  phrases 
of  Christianity,  to  make  themselves  familiarly  conver- 
sant with  the  voluminous  remains  of  ecclesiastical 
literature,  it  is  certain  that  the  private  Christian,  with 
the  Bible  and  with  modern  expositions  in  his  hand, 

avoided,  they  should  be  spoken  with  only,  the  eye  fixed  on  tho 

^*'"th In  the  case  of  almost  all  who  have  fallen  by  their  meana 

death  hath  entered  in  by  the  windows ! "  Lib.  I.  Epis.  67.  Cassian,  and 
Btill  more,  his  commentators,  might  be  quoted  at  large  on  matters  of 
this  sort.  Gregory  the  Great  says— Glui  corpus  suum  continen- 
tiae  dedicant,  habitare  cum  feminia  non  presumant ;  and  he  tells  a 
long  story  to  enforce  his  advice.  Dialog.  Lib.  III.  c.  7.  Su»pkru» 
Severus  thinks  it  necessary  to  excuse  his  hero,  St.  Martin,  in  &n 
instance  (referred  to  in  Nat.  Hist,  of  Enthus.  Sect.  IX.)  in  which  ho 
had  suffered  the  touch  of  a  woman:  and  in  the  same  spirit^  axk 
unknown  monkish  writer — 

Causa  gravis  scelerum  cessabit  amor  mulierum, 
Colloquium  quarum  nil  est  nisi  virus  amarura 
Praebens,  sub  mellis  dulcedine,  pocula  fellis. 

Carman  Parceneticum. 
*  Evidence  might  without  difficulty  be  adduced  to  prove  that  tho 
monastic  institution,  such  as  it  had  become  in  the  times  of  Basil,  was 
rather  corrected  and  purified,  than  rendered  still  more  extravagant  by 
the  influence  of  his  writings.  In  his  oicn  age  therefore  (if  the  fact  be 
as  we  prrsume)  he  was  a  Reformer.  His  influence,  on  the  contrary, 
as  extended  through  succeeding  ages,  has  been  to  hold  in  credit  a 
system  which,  but  for  the  support  of  men  like  himself,  must  soon 
have  fallen  under  the  general  reprobation  and  contempt  of  mankind. 
Remove  from  this  institution  what  Basil,  Chrysostom,  Ambrose, 
Augustine,  and  Bernard  did  to  sustain  it,  and  not  all  the  exploits  of 
a  thousand  fanatics  could  have  availed  to  keep  it  going. 


OF   THE    SCOURGE. 


95 


need  not  sigh  that  those  treasures  are  locked  up  from 
his  use. 

In  its  rancorous  stage  the  fanaticism  of  austerity  is 
not  to  be  looked  for  in  a  w^riter  so  great  and  good  as 
the  Bishop  of  Caesarea.  For  instances  of  this  we  must 
turn  to  some  of  his  contemporaries  of  less  note;  and 
to  those  who  afterwards  followed  in  the  same  track. 
Nevertheless  the  germs  of  malignant  religionism  (such 
as  in  a  preceding  section  we  have  briefly  stated  them 
to  be)  are  not  wanting  even  in  Basil.  It  is  evident, 
for  example,  that  the  very  serious  impressions  he  en- 
tertained of  the  Divine  Justice,  and  its  bearing  upon 
man,  were  not  balanced,  as  in  the  minds  of  the  apos- 
tles, by  a  clear  and  auspicious  understanding  of  the 
great  article  of  justification  by  faith : — his  faith  there- 
fore was  comfortless,  severe,  and  dim.*  Again,  the 
scriptural  belief  of  the  agency  and  malice  of  infernal 
spirits,  had  become,  in  that  age,  and  before  it,  so  turgid 
and  extravagant  that  it  filled  a  far  larger  space  on  the 
circle  of  vision  than  properly  belongs  to  it.  In  truth, 
among  the  monks,  the  subject  of  infernal  seduction 
quite  occupied  the  mind,  to  the  exclusion  almost  of 
happier  objects  of  meditation. — The  devil,  whatever 
may  be  the  title  of  the  piece,  is  the  real  hero  of  the 
drama  of  monastic  piety  : — that  piety  therefore  has  all 
the  proper  characters  of  superstition.f 

♦  The  disorders,  the  corruption,  and  the  religious  feuds  of  the  age 
had  evidently  affected  the  mind  of  Basil  in  a  manner  not  favourable 
to  his  dispositions.  A  genuine  lover  of  solitude,  he  was  a  passionate 
admirer  of  Ideal  Perfection,  and  turned  with  alarm  and  distaste,  as 
well  from  the  church  as  the  world,  in  the  actual  state  of  both.  Yet 
his  was  a  mind  of  the  governing  class.  From  public  interests  he 
could  not  refrain  ; — not  his  paradise  in  the  depth  of  the  wilderness 
could  hold  him,  when  a  sphere  of  power  opened  itself  before  him  ; 
but  he  ascended  the  archiepiscopal  throne  an  anchoret  in  heart,  more 
even  than  in  discipline  and  garb  ; — might  we  say,  an  anchoret  by 
imaginative  taste.  We  regard  his  ascetic  writings  as  the  product  of 
the  original  incongruities  of  his  character:  seated  in  the  place  of  power, 
he  aimed  not  so  much  to  govern  the  church-secular  and  actual ;  and 
as  a  Latin  would  have  done,  as  to  create  or  to  mould  a  celestial  com- 
munity that  should  yield  itself  fully  to  his  plastic  hand. 

t  At  a  very  early  time  the  beUef  of  Christians,  and  especially  of 


96 


FANATICISM 


OF   THE    SCOURGE. 


97 


Furthermore,  the  broad  distinction  made  between 
what  was  insolently  termed  "  the  common  life,"  and 
the  "angelic,"  or  monastic,  and  upon  which  Basil  so 
much  insists,  could  not  fail  to  generate,  as  in  fact  it  did, 
a  supercilious  disdain  of  the  mass,  not  of  mankind  at 
Jarge  merely,  but  of  the  Christian  community,  and  with 
it,  a  preposterous  conceit  (ill  concealed  beneath  the 
cant  of  humility)  of  peculiar  privilege  and  celestial 
dignity,  as  the  distinction  of  a  few.  Thus  was  it  that 
all  the  stones  of  the  foundation  of  the  pandemonium 
of  pride,  impurity,  and  cruelty,  were  laid  by  the  hands 
of  men  whom  we  must  venerate  and  admire. 

The  most  benign  in  its  elements,  and  yet  perhaps 
the  most  destructive  in  its  actual  consequences  of  all 
the  forms  of  fanaticism  (under  this  general  head) 
remains  to  be  mentioned ; — we  mean  the  custom  of 
pilgrimage.  What  enterprise  can  seem  more  innocent 
than  that  of  a  journey  to  gratify  the  tranquil  yearn- 
ings of  pious  affection  toward  a  sacred  spot? — But 
"what  usage  more  fatal,  if  we  look  at  its  products 
through  a  course  of  ages  ?  Well  may  it  be  ques- 
tioned whether  the  most  ferocious  of  the  ancient 
superstitions  ever  made  such  havoc  of  human  life 
as  have  the  tranquil  pilgrimages  of  the  eastern  and 
western  nations.  Even  the  merciless  military  exe- 
cutions perpetrated  by  zealot  kings  upon  their  own 
subjects  at  the  instigation  of  friar-confessors,  have 
probably  not  caused  more  death  and  misery  than 
pilgrimage  has  occasioned.  The  reader  might  star- 
tle perhaps  to  hear  it  affirmed  that,  looking  only  to 
modern  times,  the  wars  that  have  raged  in  different 
parts  of  Europe  and  Asia  have  not  wasted  the  human 

the  monk?,  concerning  infernal  agency,  had  assumed  a  form  from 
which  nothing  could  follow  but  the  follies  and  the  horrors  of  supersti- 
tion. A  far  extended  and  exact  inquiry  would  be  needed  to  place 
this  subject  in  a  just  light.  Though  intimately  connected  with  the 
rise  and  maturity  of  Fanaticism,  it  is  too  copious  a  theme  to  be  en- 
tered upon  in  this  volume. — It  demands,  however,  to  be  fully  consid- 
ered if  we  would  obtain  a  comprehensive  and  satisfactory  under- 
standing of  the  early  corruption  of  Christianity. 


species  to  a  greater  amount  than  the  noiseless  pro- 
cessions that,  during  the  same  era,  have  been  stream- 
ing toward  the  centres  of  Brahminical,  Mohammedan, 
and  Romish  superstition. 

Travel  by  sea  and  land— the  latter  not  less  than 
the  former,  does  indeed  include  a  hundred  chances  of 
death  unknown  to  the  resident  portion  of  mankind. 
But  journeys  prompted  by  motives  of  religion  seem 
to  invite  and  concentrate  every  ill  chance  that  can 
possibly  belong  to  a  passage  from  country  to  country. 
Anriong  the  many  routes  beaten  by  the  foot  of  man, 
which  catch  the  eye  as  we  look  broadly  over  the 
earth's  surface,  if  there  be  one  that  stares  out  from 
the  landscape — whitened  with  bones,  we  shall  always 
find  it  terminate  at  some  holy  shrine.  A  spot  made 
important  by  nothing  but  the  dreams  of  superstition, 
has  become,  by  the  accumulated  mortality  of  ages, 
the  very  Golgotha  of  a  continent ;  and  death  has  fitly 
erected  his  proudest  trophies  on  the  paths  that  have 
led  to  the  place  of  a  sepulchre. 

Besides  other,  and  incidental  reasons  of  the  diflfer- 
ence,  it  is  enough  to  say  that,  while  men  are  engaged 
in  mercantile  adventure  simply,  and  are  acting  upon 
the  common  inducements  of  worldly  interest,  they 
naturally  foresee  dangers,  and  provide  against  them, 
but  the  train  of  pilgrimage,  at  first  mustered  by  Folly, 
has  renounced  as  an  impiety  the  guidance  of  reason, 
and  hurrying  onward,  every  day  with  a  more  des- 
perate haste  than  before,  has  at  length  poured  itself 
as  a  torrent  along  the  very  valley  of  death. 

It  is  hard  to  conjecture  to  what  extent  the  mischief 
might  have  reached — especially  in  those  ages  when 
the  frenzy  was  at  its  height,  if  it  had  not  been 
checked  by  the  saving  admixture  of  grosser  motives 
with  the  pure  fanaticism  which  was  its  prime  impulse. 
How  greatly  are  we  often  indebted  (if  pride  would 
but  own  it)  to  those  whispered  suggestions  of  com- 
mon prudence  which  we  should  indignantly  spurn  if 
they  dared  to  utter  themselves  aloud !     Yes,  and  in 

10 


98 


FANATICISM 


the  wondrous  complexity  of  human  nature,  provisions 
are  made  for  the  clogging  or  diverting  of  every  power 
that  tends  to  run  up  to  a  dangerous  velocity.  Reli- 
gious delusion  is  in  fact  found  to  coalesce  readily,  on 
the  one  side  with  soft  sensualities,  and  on  the  other- 
strange  amalgam  !— with  mercenary  calculations.  Of- 
tener^than  can  be  told  has  pious  heroism  slid  down  by 
a  rapid  descent  into  sordid  hypocrisy,  and  the  stalking 
devotee  of  yesterday  has  become  to-day  a  sheer 
knave.  Just  so  does  a  torrent  tumble  from  crag  to 
crag  of  the  mountains,  and  sparkle  in  the  sun  as  it 
storms  along ;— until,  reaching  a  level  and  a  slimy 
bed,  it  takes  up  the  impurity  it  finds— gets  sluggish 
as  well  as  foul ;  and  at  length  creeps  silent  through 
the  oozy  channels  of  a  swamp. 

The  wan  and  wasted  pilgrim — shall  we  call  him 
devotee  or  pedlar? — who  left  his  home  warm  with 
genuine   fervours,   unluckily   for   his  reputation,  dis- 
covered as  he  went,  the  secret  of  profitable  adven- 
ture.    Become   dealer,   either  in   articles   of  vulgar 
merchandize,*^  or,  still  better,  in  the  inestimable  wares 
of  superstition— rags— bones— pebbles— splinters,  he 
took  his  course,  barely  knowing  at  length  of  what  sort 
his   errand   was;    but  actually   reached   his  home  a 
wealthy  trader,  who  had  gone  forth  a  crazy  mendi- 
cant.    The  important  effect  however  of  a  transmuta- 
tion of  motives  such  as  this,  was  to  impart  caution 
and  forethought  to  the  pilgrim  enterprise  ;   for  it  is  a 
singular  inconsistency  of  human  nature  that  men  will 
ordinarily  take  much  more  care  of  life  for  the  sake  of 
goods  and  property,  than  they  will  do  of  life  by  itself. 
If  it  had  not  been  for  these  mitigations,  pilgrimage, 
during  certain  eras,  might  almost  have  swallowed  up 
the  human  race  in  the  countries  where  chiefly  the 
madness  raged.f 

*  See  Robertson's  Disquisition  on  India,  Sect.  3.  ,      •  r 

+  It  was  not  merely  as  venders  of  relics,  or  of  the  productions  of 

the  east,  that  the  pilgrims  found  the  means  of -refunding  the  expenses 

of  their  journey  ;  for  it  appears  to  have  been  customary  for  them  on 


OP   THE    SCOURGE. 


99 


A  portion  only  of  this  system  of  religious  vagrancy 
belongs  to  our  immediate  subject ;  for  it  is  very  far 
from  being  true  that  all  pilgrims  have  been  fanatics. 
Some,  as  we  have  said,  should  be  reckoned  mere 
traders,  or  hucksters  under  pretext  of  religion  ;  just 
as  valiant  knights  were  often  freebooters,  under  the 
same  guise.  Some,  we  cannot  doubt,  have  been  in- 
stigated mainly  by  that  taste  for  adventure  and  love 
of  roving  which,  in  certain  bosoms  is  an  irresistible 
impulse.  Some,  moreover,  and  not  a  few,  have  been 
flogged  on,  through  their  weary  way,  by  pure  super- 
stitious terror,  or  by  the  well-founded  dread  of  the 
future  retribution  of  their  enormous  crimes.  And 
lastly,  we  must  except  those  (perhaps  not  many) 
whose  motive  may  have  been  only  a  mild  poetic 
enthusiasm,  wholly  free  from  virulence  or  gloomy 
fear,  and  not  very  difficult  to  be  conceived  of,  if  we 
are  ourselves  at  all  open  to  imaginative  sentiments, 
and  if  we  will  surrender  the  fancy  awhile  to  the 
seductive  ideas  that  are  called  up  by  long  meditation 
of  a  distant  and  hallowed  region.* 

There  was  a  time — long  gone  by,  when  the  streams 
of  pilgrimage  (if  the  anachronism  of  the  phrase  may 

their  way  home  to  perform  sacred  dramas  in  the  streets  and  squares 
of  the  towns  through  which  they  passed,     Ceux,  says  a  French 

writer,  qui  revonoient  de  Jerusalem  et  de  la  Terre  Sainte,  &c 

composoicnt  des  canliques  sur  leurs  voyages,  y  meioient  le  recit  de 
la  vie  et  de  la  mort  du  Fils  de  Dieu,  ou  du  Judgment  dernier,  d'une 
nianiere  grossiere,  rnais  que  le  chant  et  la  simplicite  de  ces  temps  1^ 

sembloient  rcndre  pathctique Ces  Pclerins  qui  alloient  par 

troupes,  et  qui  s'arrctoient  dans  lea  rues  et  dans  les  places  publiques 
oh  ils  chantoient  le  Bourdon  a  la  main,  le  chapeau  et  le  mantelet 
chargez  de  coquilles  et  d'images  peintes  de  diverses  couleurs,  faisoient 
une  especc  de  spectacle  qui  plut 

*  duam  dulce  est  percgrinis  post  multam  longi  itineris  fatigationem, 
post  plurima,  terras  marisque  pericula,  ibi  tandam  quiescere,  ubi  et 
agnoscunt  sunm  Dominum  quievisse!  Pulo  jam  pru;  gaudio  non 
senliunt  vire  laborem,  noc  gravamen  reputant  expcnsarum  ;  sed  tan- 
quam  laboris  praemium,  cursusve  bravium  (/Spai/SfTov)  assecuti ;  juxta 

ScripturfB  sententiam,  gaudent  vehemcntcr  cum  invenerint  sepulcrum. 
(St.  Bernard.  Exhort,  ad  Milites  Tcmpli,  cap.  11.)  a  tract  we  shall 
tuve  occasion  again,  and  more  fully  to  refer  to.    See  Sect.  VII. 


100 


FANATICISM 


tl     ! 


be  pardoned)  flowed  from  all  points  around  the  Medi- 
terrean  toward  the  principal  centres  of  philosophy,  or 
of  legislative  science.  First  India,  or  Chaldea,  then 
Egypt,  then  Greece,  drew  from  all  lands  the  votaries 
of  wisdom.  How  marvellously  must  the  love  of  pure 
wisdom  have  declined  since  those  ages ! — or  else 
wisdom  has  become  the  produce  of  all  climates.  More 
nearly  analogous  to  the  pilgrimages  of  later  times, 
though  still  very  unhke  them,  was  that  widely-extend- 
ed practice  which  brought  every  year  multitudes  of 
the  Greeks  of  all  the  settlements,  even  the  most  re- 
mote, and  not  a  few  of  the  still  more  distant  barbarians, 
to  the  oracular  temples  of  the  mother  country,  or  to 
those  of  Ionia  and  ^olia  ; — to  Oropus,  Aba,  Dodona, 
Delphi.  Yet  although  the  errand  in  these  cases  was 
often  a  fruitless  one,  and  the  belief  whence  it  arose 
superstitious,  the  motive  (had  but  the  premises  been 
sound)  was  calm  and  rational,  and  not  at  all  of  the 
sort  to  kindle  the  imagination,  or  to  disturb  the  pas- 
sions. Instruction,  advice,  or  what  perhaps  might  be 
equally  serviceable — ^  final  decision  on  some  perplex- 
ing occasion  of  public  or  private  life,  was  needed,  and 
sought  for ;  and,  whether  for  the  better  or  the  worse, 
actually  obtained  from  the  ministers  of  the  mephitic 
cavern.  Now  it  must  be  granted  that  an  authoritative 
determination  (even  supposing  there  to  be  an  equal 
chance  of  truth  and  error)  might,  in  many  an  instance, 
well  repay  a  journey  of  three  hundred  miles,  or  a 
voyage  of  five.  The  common  business  of  life,  and  the 
affairs  of  state  too,  were  often  much  advantaged  among 
the  Greeks  by  their  appeals  to  what  one  might  call  a 
Court  of  Chancery,  in  which  the  god  gave  verdicts — 
generally  without  delays — always  without  pleadings 
— and  most  often  for  moderate  fees. 

We  have  yet  to  search  for  the  pattern  or  the  origin 
of  the  practice  of  pilgrimage  ;  but  find  resemblances 
rather  than  actual  analogies.  Such  may  be  deemed, 
and  it  is  not  more  than  a  resemblance,  that  usage  of 
the  Jewish  people  which  brought  the  male  population 


OF    THE    SCOURGE. 


101 


of  the  country  three  times  in  the  year  to  the  centre  and 
only  sanctioned  place  of  public  worship.  An  auspici- 
ous institution — well  adapted  to  diffuse,  and  to  keep  in 
brisk  circulation  among  a  simple  and  agricultural 
people,  the  several  elements  of  social  and  religious 
prosperity.  Then  it  is  evident  that  the  shortness  of 
the  distances,  the  frequency  of  the  visit,  and  the  univer- 
sality of  the  obligation,  must  have  obviated  the  evils 
which  attend  the  custom  of  pilgrimage.  No  danger, 
ordinarily,  nor  perilous  adventure,  and  no  extreme 
privations,  could  beset  a  journey  of  fifty — a  hundred, 
or  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  through  a  home-land, 
densely  peopled  ;  nor  could  any  but  the  calmest  and 
happiest  sort  of  excitement  spring  up  on  an  occasion 
which,  instead  of  being  a  single  and  solemn  act  of  a 
man's  life,  was  the  habit  of  his  life.  But  the  main 
circumstance  of  difference  is  this,  that  the  resort  of  the 
people  to  the  tabernacle  and  temple,  being  a  national 
duty,  and  a  general  or  universal  practice,  it  could 
never  be  made  the  ground  of  boasting  or  honour  to 
individuals,  nor  could  be  thought  of  as  a  meritorious 
enterprise,  by  the  aspirants  to  religious  reputation. 

The  mosaic  institution  seems  to  have  set  the  habit  of 
journeying  in  the  Jewish  character,  and  to  have  fixed 
it  there  so  firmly  and  tranquilly,  that  in  after  ages, 
when  the  circumstances  of  a  visit  to  the  "  Holy  City" 
were  altogether  altered,  and  were  such  as  might 
readily  have  kindled  an  active  fanaticism,  dangerous 
to  the  governments  which  allowed  it,  the  ancient  de- 
vout serenity  held  its  place  in  the  feelings  and  manners 
of  the  people  of  the  dispersion. — Those  who,  during 
the  Persian,  Macedonian,  and  Roman  eras  (the  early 
portion  of  it)  came  to  appear  before  the  Lord  from  the 
remotest  settlements  of  Libya,  or  Scythia,  or  India, 
went  "  from  strength  to  strength"  with  a  feeling  nearly 
the  same  as  that  of  their  happier  ancestors,  whose 
journey  lay  only  through  the  olive  vales  of  Palestine. 
it  is  not  until  we  approach  the  dark  hour  of  the  catas- 
trophe of  the  city  that  we  meet  with  the  indications  of 

10* 


102 


FANATICISM 


OF    THE    SCOURGE. 


103 


i 


\    !■ 


a  different  spirit.  Then  indeed  a  frenzy  had  seized 
the  obdurate  race,  both  at  home  and  in  the  lands  of 
its  exile  ;  and  the  resort  of  the  scattered  nation  to  the 
ill-fated  Jerusalem,  was  like  the  rush  of  acrid  humours 
to  the  heart  and  head  of  a  delirious  man.  This  season 
excepted,  the  Jewish  pilgrimages  to  the  holy  city  were 
not,  as  it  appears,  marked  by  fanatical  turbulence. — 
The  purpose  of  the  worshippers  was  rational  and  their 
religious  notions  were,  in  the  main,  of  a  substantial 
and  healthy  sort ; — they  did  not  travel  a  thousand 
miles — to  kiss  a  stone,  or  to  purchase  a  relic ;  but  to 
take  part  in  the  services  of  that  Temple  where  alone, 
in  all  the  world,  the  first  principles  of  Theology  were 
understood,  and  the  true  God  adored.  The  journey, 
and  its  attendant  sentiments,  were  such  as  befitted  its 
object. 

It  is  a  preposterous  creed  that  makes  pilgrimage 
fatal.  In  this  case  Delusion  leads  the  way ;  Crime 
attends  the  route ;  and  Despair  and  Frenzy  at  the 
last  come  up  to  urge  the  infatuated  troop  toward  the 
horrid  spot  where  Misery  and  Death  are  to  be  glutted 
with  victims.  Such,  in  brief,  and  with  circumstantial 
differences  only,  have  been  the  pilgrimages  that  have 
beaten  the  roads  of  India,  of  Arabia  and  of  Palestine. 
To  the  latter,  we  should  remember,  is  due  the  blood- 
stained glory  of  giving  birth  to  the  Crusades ;  for 
if  there  had  been  no  resort  of  the  pious  to  the  deso- 
lated sepulchre,  there  would  probably  have  been  no 
heroes  of  the  cross : — if  no  Peter  the  Hermit,  no  Tan- 
cred,  no  Godfrey,  no  Baldwin,  or  Richard  ! 

Should  we  not  in  this  place,  note  the  fact  that 
while  superstition,  as  if  with  a  power  of  fascination, 
has  always  been  drawing  men  from  extensive  sur- 
faces toward  some  one  vortex  of  delusion,  true  Re- 
ligion, on  the  contrary,  has  shown  itself  to  possess 
an  expansive  force,  which,  has  rendered  it  a  point  of 
radiation,  or  an  emanative  centre,  whence  light  and 
Uessings  have  flowed  to  the  remotest  circumference. 
Is  a  criterion  wanted  which,  by  exterior  facts  only, 


might  discriminate  between  a  false  and  a  true  belief? 
little  hazard  would  be  run  in  assuming  such  a  one  as 
this — That  the  former  will  be  seen  to  be  gathering 
up,  and  accumulating,  and  devouring  ; — wiiile  the 
other  spreads  itself  abroad,  and  scatters  and  diffuses, 
as  widely  as  it  may,  whatever  benefits  it  has  to  con- 
fer. Christianity  is  not  the  religion  of  a  shrine,  of  a 
sepulchre,  of  a  chair,  or  of  a  den  ;  but  of  all  the 
broad  ways  of  the  world,  and  of  every  place  where 
man  is  found. 


SUPPLEMENTARY    NOTE. 

Iif  treating  of  the  Fanaticism  of  the  Scourge,  a  passing  notice,  at 
least,  of  the  miserable  Flagellants  of  the  13th  and  14th  centuries,  may 
be  looked  for.  The  pitiable  frenzy,  though  of  fatal  consequence  for 
a  time,  and  horribly  suppressed,  does  not  seem  to  merit  much  atten- 
tion either  as  a  matter  of  history  or  of  philosophy.  What  has  been 
handed  down  concerning  these  dolorous  vagrants,  is  familiar  to  most 
readers.  Froissart's  account  (Vol.  ii.  p.  263.)  relates  to  the  last  erup- 
tion of  the  Flagellants,  "  This  year  of  our  Lord  1349,  there  came 
from  Germany  persons  who  performed  public  penilencies  by  whipping 
themselves  with  scourges  having  iron  hooks,  so  that  their  backs  and 
shoulders  were  torn :  they  chaunted  also,  in  a  piteous  manner, 
canticles  of  the  nativity  and  sufferings  of  our  Saviour;  and  could  not 
by  their  rules,  remain  in  any  town  more  than  one  night;  they 
travelled  in  companies  of  more  or  less  in  number  (it  is  elsewhere 
affirmed  that  they  amounted  sometimes  to  ten  thousand,  and  included 
persons  of  the  highest  rank)  and  thus  journeyed  through  the  country, 
performing  their  penitence  for  thirty-three  days,  being  the  number  of 
years  Jesus  Christ  remained  on  earth  ;  and  then  returned  to  their  own 
homes.  These  penitencies  were  thus  performed  to  entreat  the  Lord  to 
restrain  his  anger,  and  withhold  his  vengeance  ;  for  at  this  period  aa 
epidemic  malady  ravaged  the  earth,  and  destroyed  a  third  part  of  its 
inhabitants."  This  fanaticism  was  of  too  turbulent  a  kind  to  be  suf- 
fered by  the  Church,  which,  after  severely  denouncing  it,  and  in  vain, 
at  length  let  loose  upon  it  the  armed  ministers  of  her  power.  Eight 
thousand  persons  were  massacred  in  a  day  by  the  Teutonic  knights  at 
the  command  of  Pope  Clement  VI.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that 
some  articles  of  the  doraineat  superstition  had  been  called  in  question 
by  these  penitents. 


OF   THE    BRAND. 


105 


SECTION  VL 


FANATICISM    OF    THE    BRAND. 


Galerius,  Alva,  Bonner,  cross  our  path  in  every 
street  of  a  populous  city ;  and  moreover  the  agents 
and  ministers  of  such  formidable  personages  might  be 
found  in  every  crowd.  The  chief  and  his  company,  fit 
for  the  labours  of  religious  cruelty,  we  must  not  think 
have  passed  away  with  ages  long  gone  by;  but  rather 
believe  that  they  are  about  us  now,  and  wait  only  the 
leave  or  bidding  of  circumstances  to  re-act  their  parts. 
Or,  to  confess  in  a  word  the  whole  humiliating  truth, 
it  is  Human  Nature,  such,  alas,  as  it  is  harboured  in 
each  of  our  bosoms,  that  offers  itself  with  more  or  less 
readiness  to  the  excitement  of  malign  and  even  mur- 
derous passions ! 

At  once  therefore  justice  toward  the  signalized 
authors  of  persecution,  whom  we  are  apt  to  regard  as 
beings  of  infernal  origin,  and  a  due  caution,  having 
respect  to  the  possible  events  of  some  day  which  may 
yet  come  in  the  world's  history,  demand  that  instead 
of  taking  a  distant  glance  at  the  gloomy  tragedies  of 
remote  times,  we  should  look  into  the  heart  in  search 
of  those  deep  sunken  motives  whence  the  worst  atro- 
icties  might  take  their  spring.  The  man  is  indeed  to  be 
envied  whose  spirit  contains  no  such  elements  as  might 
enable  him  to  institute  an  analysis  of  this  sort.  Few  will 
make  the  profession  ;  and  perhaps  among  those  who 
would,  there  may  be  one  or  more  that,  if  actually  drawn 
into  the  eddy  of  turbulent  passions,  would  be  found 


foremost  in  deeds  of  violence ;  for  it  is  certain  that  the 
prime  impulses  of  a  sanguinary  fanaticism  act  and 
re-act  one  upon  another  until  an  emotion  is  generated 
which  quite  bears  down  the  gentler  feelings  of  our 
nature. 

The  offence  given  to  self-love,  and  the  wound 
inflicted  upon  pride  by  resistance  in  matters  of 
opinion,  is  deep  in  proportion,  not  simply  to  the 
importance  of  the  question  debated,  but  to  its  obscurity 
also ;  for  in  this  case  a  secret  dread  of  being  at  length 
overthrown  and  humbled,  adds  asperity  to  arrogance. 
It  is  obvious  then  that  no  subject  can  equal  religion  in 
furnishing  occasion  to  these  keen  resentments.  The 
vastness  and  unlimited  range  of  the  matters  it  is  con- 
cerned with — the  infinite  importance  of  its  capital 
truths,  and  the  readiness  with  which  the  weight  of 
what  is  substantial  may  be  made  over  to  what  is  not 
so — even  to  the  most  trivial  of  its  adjuncts,  fit  it  well 
to  impart  the  utmost  vehemence  to  whatever  feeling* 
attend  the  contests  of  mind  with  mind.  All  this 
hardly  needs  to  be  affirmed ;  nor  can  we  wonder  to 
see  the  bitterness  of  ordinary  strife  assuming  when 
religion  is  the  subject  of  controversy,  a  solemn  viru- 
lence, such  as  makes  secular  contentions  seem  vapid 
and  trivial.  Common  hatred  now  rises  to  an  immortal 
abhorrence ;  wrath  swells  to  execration,  and  every  ill 
wish  breaks  out  in  anathemas. 

That  feelings  so  strong  should  vent  themselves  in 
vindictive  acts,  when  opportunity  serves,  is  only 
natural ;  and  we  might,  without  advancing  further, 
account  in  this  manner  solely  for  the  cruelties  in 
which  religious  discords  have  so  often  terminated. 
But  there  seems  to  be  something  yet  deeper  in  the 
tendency  to  employ  torments  and  death  as  means  of 
persuasion.  It  should  be  expected  that  a  course  of 
action  so  preposterous  as  that  of  destroying  men  in 
professed  love  to  their  souls,*  will  be  found  to  take  its 

*  There  is  no  cruelty  comparable  to  that  which  wraps  itself  in  a 
villanous  hypocrisy.    The  Romish  Church   (nor  that   alone)   has 


tl 


106 


FANATICISM 


OP   THE    BRAND. 


107 


rise  from  a  sheer  absurdity : — such,  for  example,  as 
that  of  putting  an  antagonist  into  the  position  with 
which  we  associate  the  idea  of  atrocious  crimes  in 
order  to  confirm  ourselves  in  the  belief  that  he  is  indeed 
an  atrocious  criminal.  This  we  grant  is  reasoning  in 
a  circle ;  but  it  is  a  logic  not  strange  to  the  human 
mind.  A  secret  influence  not  to  be  resisted,  impels 
us  to  do  homage  to  the  primary  elements  of  virtue, 
even  when  most  we  are  violating  its  particular  pre- 
cepts. This  homage,  although  tacit,  and  rendered 
unconsciously,  is  not  the  less  real  in  its  effects.  We 
can  in  no  case  hate  and  curse  our  fellow-men  until 
after  we  have  wrought  ourselves  up  to  the  persuasion 
that  they  are  condign  objects  of  such  treatment.  But 
in  the  instance  of  religious  animosities  such  a  persua- 
sion is  not  ordinarily  to  be  attained,  except  in  a 
circuitous  track.  Even  the  slenderest  pretext  for 
charging  upon  our  opponent  moral  delinquencies  is 
often  wanting:  on  the  contrary,  perhaps  a  life  and 
temper  absolutely  blameless  put  to  shame  every 
attempted  calumny.  Woe  to  our  victim  if  this  be  the 
case,  for  then  the  cruel  work  of  vilifying  him  must  be 
so  much  the  more  elaborate  !  To  establish  to  our 
own  satisfaction  the  guilt  of  our  enemy  by  the  method 
of  argument — by  fair  inference  and  evidence,  is  a 
process  too  slow  to  keep  pace  with  the  velocity  of  the 
vindictive  passions.  What  then  remains  but  by  the 
forms  of  law — if  law  be  at  our  bidding,  and  by  the 
sword  of  justice — if  justice  be  our  obsequious  servant, 
to  consign  the  hated  impugner  of  our  will  to  the  class 
of  malefactors  ? — When  once  we  have  looked  upon 
him  covered  with  ignominy — and  if  we  can  but  see 
him  pale  with  the  paleness  which  a  dungeon  sheds  on 


always  professed  the  tenderest  regard  to  the  spiritual  welfare  of  those 
whom  slie  was  about  to  let  drop  into  her  fires.  And  thus  the  Holy 
Office,  in  the  instructions  which  guide  its  agents,  provides  that — "If 
a  prisoner  falls  sick,  the  inquisitors  must  carefully  provide  him  with 
every  assistance,  and  more  particularly  attend  to  all  that  relates  to 
HIS  SOUL."    See  Llorente. 


the  face — and  if  we  do  but  catch  the  clanking  of  a 
chain  about  his  neck  which  a  Barabbas  yesterday 
wore ;  yes,  and  if  we  hear  him  groaning  under  tor- 
ments that  are  the  necessary  schooling  of  obdurate 
wickedness — then  we  can  fill  up  with  ease  what  before 
was  wanting  to  tranquillize  a  just  revenge.  The  circle 
of  our  ideas  is  complete,  our  moral  instincts  come 
round  to  their  close ;  we  breathe  again,  and  by  inflict- 
ing those  heavy  injuries  which  are  presumptive  evi- 
dence of  demer^it,  we  prove  to  ourselves,  as  well  as  to 
the  world,  that  the  object  of  our  hatred  was  indeed 
worthy  of  detestation  ! 

A  mode  of  reasoning  analogous  to  this  (if  reasoning 
it  should  be  called)  is  not  of  rare  occurrence. — "  The 
man  must  be  odious,  or  should  1  thus  maltreat  him  ?  " 
and  then  greater  outrages  must  be  committed,  if  it  be 
only  to  justify  the  first  assault.  The  bystanders  in  a 
common  quarrel  may  often  follow  angry  spirits  around 
a  circle  of  this  sort. — Perhaps  in  the  first  burst  of 
resentment  a  much  more  grievous  imputation  of  bad 
motives  was  advanced  than  the  facts  of  the  case 
would  at  all  sustain ;  or  indeed  than  the  accuser  had 
himself  seriously  intended.  But  his  position  is  now 
taken,  and  hatred  can  make  no  backward  step.  At 
once  to  brinsover  to  his  side  the  sentiments  of  others, 
and  to  fill  out  his  own  vindictive  emotions,  he  goes  on 
to  deal  with  his  antagonist  as  if  the  exaggerated 
indictment  were  fully  established.  Then,  from  the 
overt  act  of  vengeance  an  inference  is  brought  back 
upon  the  demerit  of  its  object. 

Religious  rancour  once  generated,  whether  in  the 
manner  we  have  described,  or  in  some  other  which 
we  have  failed  to  penetrate,  gets  aggravation  from  in- 
cidental causes,  some  of  which  demand  to  be  mention- 
ed. Such  as  arise  from  specific  opinions  we  shall 
presently  have  occasion  to  speak  of.  To  look  then  to 
external  causes,  one  of  the  most  ordinary  and  obvious 
is  the  mixed  feeling  of  jealousy  and  interested  pride 
that  floats  about  the  purlieus  of  every  despotism,  and 


108 


FANATICISM 


OF    THE    BRAND. 


109 


I   If 


i 


I! 


i 


especially  of  every  religious  despotism.  It  is  trite 
to  say  that  cruelty  is  produced  or  exasperated  by  the 
consciousness  of  impotence  ;  and  as  the  foundations  of 
spiritual  tyranny  are  less  ostensible,  and  more  precari- 
ous than  those  of  secular  government,  its  alarms  will 
be  more  vivid,  its  jealousies  more  envenomed,  and  its 
modes  of  procedure  more  rigorous  and  intemperate. 
The  natural  temper  of  men  being  supposed  the  same, 
it  can  hardly  happen  otherwise  than  that  the  rod  or 
staff  of  ghostly  supremacy  should  be  a  more  terrible 
engine  than  the  sceptre  and  the  sword  of  temporal 
power.  Must  we  not  admit  too,  and  may  we  not  admit 
without  offence,  that,  if  once  he  gives  way  to  the  taste 
for  cruelty,  the  man  of  the  cowl  and  cloister  will  prove 
himself  a  more  inexorable  and  a  more  ingenious  tor- 
mentor,  than  the  man  of  the  field  and  cuirass  ?* 

In  its  very  worst  condition,  and  during  those  ages 
when  every  thing  human  was  broken  up  or  corrupt, 
the  sacerdotal  order,  looked  at  in  the  whole  of  its  in- 
fluence, must  be  allowed  to  have  been  a  benefit  to  the 
nations :  and  how  incalculable  a  benefit  has  it  proved 
in  happier  eras  !  Yes,  and  who  shall  imagine  the 
happy  fruits  of  the  same  institution  when  it  shall  come 
to  take  effect  upon  the  social  system  with  the  unem- 
barrassed power  of  its  proper  motives  ?     What  now 

*  One  of  the  earliest  and  most  zealous  advocates  of  the  practice  of 
burning  heretics  is  said  to  have  been  the  Abbot  Theophanes,  who 
himself  suffered  extreme  severities  under  the  Iconoclast,  Leo  V.  Pain 
(for  beside  his  voluntary  penances  he  was  subject  to  the  stone)  was 
the  unhappy  man's  element;  and  he  doled  it  out  to  others  with  a 
freedom  corresponding  with  the  alacrity  with  which  he  bore  it  himself 
This  connexion  between  the  infliction  and  the  endurance  of  tormenta 
has  been  a  very  frequent  one;  frequent  enough  to  bring  under  just 
reprobation  every  specious  form  of  asceticism.  The  Abbott  Theop- 
hanes, we  are  told,  commenced  his  course  of  abnegation  by  an  act 
well  fitting  the  part  he  afterwards  acted  as  author  or  promoter  of 
ecclesiastical  cruelties,  "Being  arrived  at  man's  estate,  he  was 
compelled  by  his  friends  to  take  a  wife  ;  but  on  the  day  of  his  marriage 
he  spoke  in  so  moving  a  manner  to  his  consort  on  the  shortness  and 
uncertainty  of  this  life,  that  they  made  a  mutual  vow  of  perpetual 
chastity.  She  afterwards  became  a  nun  ;  and  he  for  his  part  built 
two  monasteries  in  Mysia." — Lives  of  the  SuintSj  March  13. 


we  have  to  speak  of  is  the  special  sacerdotal  temper, 
such  as  we  find  it  when  all  those  motives  were  for- 
gotten, or  were  spurned 

The  moral  sentiments  are  almost  always,  or  in 
some  degree,  put  in  danger  by  the  possession  of  privi- 
lege;  still  more  so  if  the  beneficial  distinction  be  of  an 
undefined  and  intangible  sort.  This  danger  is  much 
enhanced  if  serious  privations,  or  disabilities,  are  the 
price  paid  for  indistinct  honours ;  because  in  that  case 
a  perpetual  petulance,  or  dull  revenge,  works  itself 
into  the  character,  and  adds  the  bitterness  of  concealed 
envy  to  the  arrogance  of  rank  ;  so  that  the  malign 
sentiments  of  the  pauper  and  of  the  oligarch  are  con- 
centred in  the  same  bosom.  If  moral  disadvantage 
can  yet  be  aggravated,  it  is  so  when  the  being  who 
already  is  too  much  alienated  from  his  species  by  the 
destitution  of  real  sympathies,  and  by  participation  in 
a  ghostly  nobility,  is,  in  his  mode  of  life,  actually 
secluded  from  the  open  world,  and  breathes  the  poison 
of  a  cell. 

Nevertheless  the  pernicious  consequence  of  circum- 
stances so  unfavourable  will  be  found  open  to  many 
more  exceptions  than  theory  may  lead  us  to  expect ; 
for  it  might  naturally  be  thought  that  not  one  human 
heart  in  a  thousand  would  fail  to  become  depraved 
from  long  exposure  to  influences  so  bad :  whereas  in 
fact  it  is  not  perhaps  more  than  a  third  of  every  thou- 
sand that  undergoes  to  the  full  the  perversion  of  its 
genuine  sentiments;  while  another  third  appears 
scarcely  at  all  impaired  by  a  process  that  might  seem 
of  eflicacy  enough  to  break  down  the  virtue  of  a 
seraph. 

Yet  our  anticipations  will  not  fail  us  in  relation  to 
the  third  or  the  fourth  of  any  body  of  men  so  cruelly 
placed  in  the  very  focus  of  spiritual  ruin.  Some  such 
proportion  will  always  exhibit  in  temper  (and  in  con- 
duct if  opportunity  permits)  what  a  vicious  system  may 
do  in  rendering  men — men  like  ourselves,  abhorrent, 
malign,  or  foul.     Especially  shall  we  find  in  such  a 

11 


H 


110 


FANATICISM 


OF    THE    BRAND. 


Ill 


f 


body  frequent  instances  of  a  peculiar  species  of  fero- 
city, like  to  nothing  else  in  the  circle  of  human  senti- 
ments ;* — a  rancour  from  which  has  been  discharged 
all  that  is  vigorous  and  generous  in  manly  resentments, 
and  all  that  is  relentmg  in  those  of  woman  ; — a  rancour 
which,  although  some  few  single  examples  of  it  had 
before  been  shown  to  the  world  in  the  course  of 
twenty  centnnes,  had  never  attached  to  a  body  as  its 
characteristic  until  the  sacerdotal  institution,  under  the 
fostering  care  of  the  Romish  Church,  reached  its 
maturity. 

What  modern  heart  would  not  leap  with  fear  if  it 
were  permitted  to  us  for  an  hour  to  step  back  from  the 
nineteenth  century  to  the  age  of  Vespasian,  and  to 
push  our  way  into  the  the  theatre  of  imperial  and  pop- 
ular diversions,  just  when  the  gladiator  was  about  to 
die  for  the  sport  of  a  philosophic  prince,  and  of  sump- 
tuous citizens ;  or  when  hungry  beasts  were  to  be 
glutted  with  the  w^arm  flesh  of  the  nobility  of  a  con- 
quered kingdom  !  And  yet  the  ancient  Roman  theatre, 
with  its  mere  sprinkling  of  blood,  and  its  momentary 
pangs  and  shrieks,  quite  fades  if  brought  into  compari- 
son with  that  Colisa3urn  of  Papal  cruelty,  in  which  not 
a  hundred  or  two  of  victims,  but  myriads  of  people — 
yes,  nations  entire — have  been  gorged  1  If  we  must 
shrink  back,  as  assuredly  we  should,  from  the  one 
spectacle,  we  shudder  even  to  think  of  the  other. 
Though  it  were  possible  to  summon  courage  enough 
to  gaze  upon  the  mortal,  yet  equal,  conflict  of  man 
with  man  in  the  theatre,  how  shall  we  contemplate 
torments  and  burnings  inflicted  by  the  strong  upon  the 
weak ;  or  if  we  might  endure  to  see  the  lion  and  the 
panther  spring  upon  their  prey,  could  we  force  our- 

*  In  that  particular  species  of  ingenuity  which  exercises  itself  in 
the  invention  of  torments,  the  sacerdotal  artists  have  certainly  out- 
stripped all  competitors.  Happy  is  the  reader  if  he  be  still  ignorant 
— and  continue  so,  of  the  mechanical  secrets  of  ecclesiastical  prison- 
houses.  Descriptions  of  this  sort  injure  the  mind ;  they  rack  the 
imagination,  and  engender  emotions  of  resentment  and  disgust  whrch 
do  not  well  comport  with  Christian  feelings. 


selves  to  the  far  more  horrid  sight,  when  the  priest  and 
the  Iriar,  athirst,  were  to  rush  upon  men,  women,  and 
babes ! 

Agitating  emotions,  whether  of  indignation  or  of 
terror,  are  however  to  be  restrained,  and  in  calmer 
mood — a  mood  compatible  with  the  exercise  of  rea- 
son, and  wliich  may  allow  us  even  to  intermingle, 
where  it  can  be  done,  excuses  and  pity  for  the  perpe- 
trators of  crime  (often  far  more  unhappy  than  the 
sufferers)  we  should  survey  that  strange  scene  of  woe 
whereon  the  Romish  priesthood,  age  after  age,  has 
figured. 

But  is  it  equitable,  some  may  ask,  to  single  out  the 
Papal  Hierarchy  as  the  prime  or  incomparable  exam- 
ple of  religious  ferocity  ?  Were  not  the  ancient  idol- 
atries— Druidical,  Syrian,  Scythian,  and  Indian,  cruel 
and  sanguinary  ;  and  have  not  the  more  modern 
superstitions  of  Mexico  and  Hindoostan  been  deeply 
stained  with  blood  ?  This  is  true  ;  but  a  broad  dis- 
tinction presents  itself,  which  places  the  Papal  immo- 
lations and  tortures  on  a  ground  where  there  is 
nothing  to  compare  with  them.  It  might  be  enough 
to  say  that  an  annual  or  triennial  sacrifice  of  a  few 
victims;  or  the  gorging  of  captives  reserved  for  that 
very  purpose  from  the  slaughter  of  the  field,  have  in 
no  country  amounted  to  a  tenth  of  the  numbers  that, 
in  equal  portions  of  time,  have  fallen  around  the  altar 
of  the  Romish  Church.  But  leaving  this  point,  there 
is  a  clear  difterence,  much  in  favour  of  the  pagan 
rites,  between  the  shedding  the  blood  of  a  victim 
(using  the  term  in  its  restricted  and  proper  sense) 
at  the  impulse  of  a  sincere  superstious  dread  ;  and 
those  executions  and  exterminations  that  have  sprung, 
not  from  horrors  of  conscience,  not  from  error  of 
belief;  but  from  a  sheer  rancour.  Superstition  does 
indeed  tend  to  blood,  and  often  is  guilty  of  it ;  but 
Fanaticism — fanaticism  such  as  that  of  the  Romish 
Hierarchy,  breathes  revenge,  and  murder  beats  from 
its  heart. 


112 


FANATICISM 


OP  THE  BRAND. 


113 


Historic  justice  demands  however  that  anotlier 
comparison  should  be  made,  and  it  is  one  which 
seems  to  reheve  a  httle  the  horrors  of  the  papal 
tyranny: — we  speak  of  course  of  the  severities  under 
which  the  Christians  of  the  first  three  centuries  suf- 
fered, from  the  pagan  predecessors  of  the  Popes,  on 
the  seven  hills. — Might  we  not  believe  that  the  demon 
of  blood,  though  dislodged  for  a  season  when  the 
house  of  Caesar  fell  in  ruins,  had  lurked  a  centurv  or 
two  in  the  mists  of  the  Tiber,  or  had  slept  in  the 
swamps  of  Campania,  until  scenting  its  new  occasion, 
and  springing  up  refreshed,  it  entered  with  greetings 
the  halls  of  the  Vatican.  It  may  be  difficult  or  im- 
possible, imperfect  as  is  our  information,  equitably  to 
decide  between  imperial  and  papal  Rome,  on  the 
question  of  ferocity.  Yet  some  points  of  difference 
present  themselves  very  clearly; — as  Jst. — The  impe- 
rial persecutions  of  the  Church  are,  in  most  instances, 
to  be  attributed  to  the  personal  temper  or  the  fears  or 
jealousies  of  the  emperors,  as  individuals.*  Whereas 
the  papal  cruelties  sprung  from  the  system,  and  never 
failed  to  be  displayed,  whatever  might  be  the  charac- 
ter of  the  Pontiff,  as  often  as  the  specific  provocation 
arose.f    2dly.  More  than  one  or  two  of  the  t^n  pcr- 

*  The  first  persecution  (to  follow  the  vulgar  computation)  was 
the  act  of  Nero — Religionum  usqueqnaque  contemtor ;  the  second 
of  Domitian — non  solum  majrnae,  sed  et  callidae  inopinatceque  saevitiai: 
what  shall  we  say  of  the  emperors  to  whose  jealousies  or  philosophic 
pride  are  attributed  the  third  and  fourth?  The  fifth  took,  place  under 
Severus — natura  sebvus — vere  Pertinax,  vere  Severus.  The  sixtb 
under  Maximin — a  genuine  savage,  as  jealous  as  fierce : — the  seventh, 
horrible  as  it  was,  should  be  attributed  to  the  political  fears  and 
energetic  resolves  of  Decius  : — the  eighth  persecution  perhaps  had 
its  origin  in  the  envy  of  an  obscure  individual.  The  austerity  and 
vigour  of  Aurelian,  qui  esset,  says  Lactantius,  natura  vesanus  et 
praeceps,  if  not  diverted,  would  probably  have  given  to  the  ninth 
more  than  a  name.  The  tenth  and  the  heaviest  was  the  fruit  partly 
of  the  personal  dispositions,  but  more  of  the  political  fears  of  its  two 
imperial  authors. 

t  The  personal  character  of  the  Pontiff  has  no  doubt  often  made 
itself  felt  in  the  measures  pursued  by  the  Church.  But  in  quite  as 
many  instances  the  handling  of  the  keys  has  seemed  to  effect  a  total 


secutions,  (to  follow  the  common  computation)  appear 
to  have  been,  on  the  part  of  the  imperial  government, 
a  desperate  endeavour,  prompted  by  serious  alarms, 
for  ridding  the  state  of  a  formidable  intestine  foe.  A 
reluctant  use,  as  it  seems,  was  made  of  means  so 
severe,  but  which  were  deemed  indispensable  to  the 
preservation  of  the  vast  and  shaken  edifice  of  the 
empire.*  Now  if  it  be  alleged  that  the  papal  perse- 
cutions had  often  similar  motives,  and  might  therefore 
admit  of  a  parallel  excuse,  we  must  rest  the  difference 
on  the  ground,  that  the  maintenance  of  a  civil  polity 
(if  the  means  be  lawful)  is  a  duty  and  a  virtue  in 
public  men  ;  while  we  can  regard  the  supporters  of  a 
ghostly  domination  in  no  other  light  than  as  hateful 
usurpers  ; — never  can  it  be  a  virtue  to  uphold  that 
which,  in  its  essence,  and  under  any  condition,  is 
wicked.  Then  3dly.  The  pagan  persecui ions  were  (for 
the  most  part)  enacted  and  executed  by  men  schooled 
in  the  field  of  war — and  of  war,  often,  against  barba- 
rous hordes.  They  were  men  indurated  too,  from  youth 

metamorphosis  of  dispositions: — the  cardinal  was  one  being — the 
;)ope  another ;  and  the  college  has  had  reason  almost  to  doubt  the 
identity  of  the  person  whom  thoy  had  lifted  to  the  summit  of  power. 
Thus  the  very  man  who  had  been  singled  out  as  more  likely  than 
any  other  to  respect  his  oath,  and  to  achieve  desired  reformations  ;  has 
been  the  one  most  audaciously  to  brave  the  amazement  of  his 
comrades,  and  to  defy  the  clamours  of  Christendom.  The  average 
date  of  each  pontificate,  taking  the  entire  series  to  the  present  time, 
has  been  little  more  than  seven  years — and  those,  generally,  the 
last  years  of  decrepit  age.  But  a  system  of  government  which, from 
century  to  century  consigns  the  reins  of  power  to  trembling  hands, 
must  of  course  derive  its  temper  and  character  much  more  (rom  the 
body  than  from  the  head.  The  average  reigns  of  the  Roman 
Emperors  was  about  ten  years  ; — and  those,  for  the  most  part,  the 
raid  years  of  life  ; — few  of  the  series  reached  the  extreme  verge  of 
mortal  existence. 

*  Putting  out  of  view  the  violent  dispositions  of  Galerius,  there  ia 
abundant  reason  to  believe  that  the  fatal  decision  which  burst  like  a 
thunder  over  the  Roman  world  from  the  palace  of  Nicomedia  was 
the  result,  in  the  main,  of  purely  political  calculations.  Nothing 
beyond  such  calculations  appears  (two  hundred  years  before)  to  have 
infiuenced  the  conduct  of  Trajan,  such  as  himself  holds  it  up  to  view 
ia  bis  letter  of  instructions  to  Pliny. 


11 


114 


FANATICISM 


OF   THE    BRAND. 


115 


It 


by  the  spectacles  of  the  theatre — that  is  to  say,  taught 
ferocity  as  much  by  their  pastimes  and  festivities,  as 
by  their  campaigns.  From  the  hands  of  beings  so 
trained  what  could  be  looked  for  ?*  But  it  is  quite 
otherwise  with  the  popish  cruelties ;  for  these,  in 
every  age,  have  been  devised  and  executed  by 
men  of  the  cloister ;  men  emasculate  in  habit,  and 
whose  nerves  should  have  had  the  sensibihty  which 
sloth,  study,  and  indulgence  engender.  An  atrocity 
perpetrated  by  the  hand  of  a  delicate  woman  is 
always  deemed  to  indicate  a  more  malignant  soul 
than  if  it  be  the  act  of  a  bandit  or  a  pirate.  By 
the  same  rule,  should  not  the. priest  be  somewhat 
more  humane  than  the  soldier  f  Yet  in  fact  the 
principals  and  the  agents  in  the  destruction  of  here- 
tics w^ere  men  who  had  personally  learned  none  of 
the  bad  lessons  of  war,  and  had  vvitnessed  no  scenes 
of  torment  or  bloodshed  but  those  in  which  them- 
selves were  the  actors.  Should  it  be  forgotten,  while 
this  comparison  is  pursued,  that  the  emperor  and  the 
senate,  the  proconsul  and  the  centurion,  knew  nothing 
more  than  the  darkness  of  paganism  could  teach 
them  ;  but  popes  and  cardinals,  legates,  priests  and 
monks,  held  the  Gospel  of  peace  in  their  hand  If 
The  bas-reliefs  and  bronzes  of  the  age  of  Roman 

*  The  Roman  soldier  had  become  a  far  more  ferocious  being  in 
the  age  of  the  emperors  than  he  was  in  that  of  the  consuls.  In  the 
early  era  he  was  a  member  of  a  limited  community,  and  had  his 
home — his  virtues — his  personal  sentiments;  in  the  latter  period  he 
was  ordinarily  nothing  better  than  an  enlisted  barbarian— how  unlike 
to  the  warrior-citizen  of  whom,  subaltern  as  well  as  chief,  it  might  be 

said,  in  the  words  of  Florus, expeditione  finila,  rcdiit  ad  boves 

rursus  triumphalis  agricola. 

t  It  is  customary  to  speak  of  the  middle  ages  as  being  destitute  as 
well  of  scriptural  as  of  profiane  learning;  and  this  may  be  true  of  the 
mass  of  the  people;  but  certainly  not  of  the  principal  a'ctors  in  Church 
affairs.  By  the  ecclesiastical  writers  of  those  limes  Scripture  is  quoted 
as  largely  and  familiarly  as  it  is  in  modern  religious  books.  St.  Ber- 
nard (of  whom  we  shall  have  occasion  presently  to  speak  more  at 
large)  in  the  tracts  and  letters  by  which  he  instigated  the  second 
crusade,  scarcely  moves  through  a  paragraph  without  a  text. — Every 
thing  is  thought  of— but  the  morality  of  the  enterprise ! 


greatness  have  brought  down  for  our  inspection  the 
form  and  visage  of  the  Roman  soldier,  such  as  he  was 
under  Nerva,  Trajan,  Aurelius,  Domitian.  The  con- 
tracted brow  declares  that  storms  of  battle  have  beat 
upon  it  often :  the  glare  of  that  overshadowed  eye 
throws  contempt  upon  death :  the  inflated  nostril 
breathes  a  steady  rage :  the  fixed  lips  deny  mercy : 
the  rigid  arm  and  the  knit  joints,  have  forced  a  path 
to  victory,  through  bristled  ramparts  and  triple  lines  of 
shields  and  swords.  And  withal  there  is  a  hardness  of 
texture  that  seems  the  outward  expression  of  an  iron 
strength  and  rigour  of  soul — a  power,  as  well  of  en- 
during, as  of  inflicting  pain  ;  and  the  one  with  almost 
as  much  indifference  as  the  other.  Shall  we  conceive 
of  encountering,  on  the  open  field,  a  being  so  firmly 
fierce,  and  so  long  accustomed  to  crush  and  trample 
upon  man  ?  But  who  shall  imagine  himself  to  have 
been  delivered  into  the  hands  ot  the  Roman  soldier 
armed,  not  as  a  warrior  but  as  executioner?  This  in- 
deed is  terror.  Alas  then,  let  us  commiserate  the 
fate  of  our  brethren  and  sisters  in  Christ — the  early 
martyrs ! — What  had  they  to  look  for  when  the  cen- 
turion's band,  such  as  we  see  it  now  encircling  the 
column  of  Trajan,  was  let  loose  upon  a  flock  of  trem- 
bling victims,  with  license  and  command  to  torture  and 
to  kill!* 

Yet  we  have  not  reached  the  extreme  point  of 
horror  : — there  remains  a  picture  which  still  more  chills 
the  blood.  True,  the  Roman  soldier,  as  well  by  his 
murderous  occupations,  as  by  his  "brutal  usages,  had 
become  hard  and  cruel ;  yet  there  was  no  mystery  in 
his  rage : — savage  more  than  malign,  his  purposes  of 
evil  sprung  only  from  the  provocations  of  the  hour ; 
they  were  not  profound  as  hell.     We  turn  then  from 

*  The  cruelties  endured  by  the  Christians  were  often  inflicted  to 
appease  the  ferocity  of  the  rabble.  Kai  yup  Kat  rov  '  Att«Aov  rot 
'^X^V  X'^Pf^oH'SVO(;  0  r,yeiu,m,  s^eS'uKe  ttuXiv  irpoi  6y\pix.  Epist. 
Vienn.  et  Lugd.  Similar  expressions  abound  in  the  early  raartyr- 
ologies. 


I 


116 


FANATICISM 


OF    THE    BRAND. 


117 


Hi 


the  bas-reliefs,  and  the  sculptures,  and  coins  of  ancient 
art,  and  open  an  illuminated  codex — choice  treasure 
of  a  monkish  library.  At  the  head  of  homilies  and 
prayers,  or  of  meditations  and  miracles,  and  set  in 
tiowers  of  purple  and  gold,  we  find  the  veritable  effigy 
of  the  canonized  zealot ; — abbot  or  brother — a  Do- 
minic or  a  Fouquet.  IIow  delicate  was  the  bodily 
frame  and  outward  texture  of  the  man  : — the  soft  con- 
tour bespeaks  physical  and  mental  laxity  ;  yet  is  there 
too,  in  the  mobile  features  an  indication  of  that  resolu- 
tion which  excitement  may  give,  if  not  that  which 
animal  courage  imparts.  An  abject  habit  of  soul,  to- 
gether with  a  boundless  insolence  ; — a  usage  of  sub- 
mission to  every  tyranny,  and  an  arrogance  that  would 
crush  a  world  when  provoked,  meet  in  the  tortuous 
brows.  Under  how  many  impenetrable  coverings 
are  the  secrets  of  that  heart  concealed ;  if  we  are  to 
judge  by  the  wily  closing  of  the  lips,  and  the  wrinkled 
temples  !  The  face,  taken  at  a  glance,  is  the  very 
pattern  of  penitence  and  ecstasy  ;  but  to  look  at  it 
again  is  to  find  it  wanting  in  the  traces  of  every  human 
affection. — The  man,  beside  that  his  occupations  have 
not  been  of  the  sort  that  give  vigour  to  the  animal 
system,  and  cheerful  alacrity  to  the  mind,  has  no  kindly 
relationships,  no  natural  cares,  no  mild  hopes  :  he  is 
not  social,  not  domestic  ;  but  in  the  place  of  all  genuine 
impulses,  harbours  the  rancid  desires  of  a  suppressed 
concupiscence.  Who  could  imagine  him  to  be  hus- 
band, or  father,  or  friend,  or  neighbour,  or  citizen,  or 
patriot  ?  Hover  where  it  may,  this  is  an  alien  spirit — 
foreign  to  whatever  is  human  ;  at  home  only  in  the 
world  of  ghostly  excitements  : — it  haunts  earth ;  not 
dwells  upon  it. 

What  then,  think  we,  shall  this  being  show  himself 
when  he  comes  to  be  inflamed  by  spiritual  revenge, 
and  quickened  by  the  virulence  of  those  boundless 
hatreds  which  a  malignant  superstition  engenders ! 
And  what  when  the  engines  of  a  mighty  despotism 
are  entrusted  to  his  zealous  hands !     Horror  has  now 


nothing  worse  to  conceive  of: — the  ghastly  ideal  of 
cruelty  is  filled  up. — Who  w^ould  not  rush  from  the 
grasp  of  the  irritated  ascetic  to  cling  to  the  knees  of 
the  Roman  soldier,  and  there  plead  for  human  com- 
passion ! 

Yet  is  this  same  horrific  personage  human,  nor 
perhaps  worse  than  many,  if  we  deduct  all  that  the 
bad  svstem  it  has  been  his  wretched  lot  to  live  under 
has  done  to  pervert  him.  The  Franciscan — the  In- 
quisitor, once  sucked  the  breast  of  woman,  and  joined 
in  the  mirth  and  gambols  of  childhood  ;  and  even  now, 
if  it  were  possible  to  take  him  apart  for  a  moment  fix^m 
his  rules  and  his  crucifix,  we  might  find  in  his  bosom 
the  germs  at  least  of  the  common  charities  of  life : 
yes,  doubtless  he  is  human ;  and  if  the  sinewy  fabric 
were  exposed  by  the  knife  of  the  anatomist,  the  trans- 
formation that  has  made  him  so  unlike  to  other  men 
could  not  be  detected. — The  brain,  for  aught  that  ap- 
pears, might  as  well  have  entertained  reason  and  truth 
as  another  brain; — the  heart,  for  aught  that  we  can 
see,  might,  as  readily  as  another  heart,  have  throbbed 
with  pity. 

Svstem  and  circumstance  deducted — the  Francis- 
can  or  the  Inquisitor  may  be  found  in  all  communities. 
— Look,  for  example,  at  that  grave  and  abstracted, 
yet  3^outhful  countenance — pallid,  and  somewhat  fallen 
from  the  salient  outline  that  sliould  bespeak  the  actual 
years.  What  intensity  in  the  glare  of  the  sunken 
eye  !  What  fixedness  of  purpose  in  the  lips  !  and  the 
movements  of  the  youth  seem  inspirited  with  some 
intention  beyond  simple  locomotion,  or  mechanical 
agency : — as  he  walks  one  would  think  that  he  was 
hastening  onward  by  the  side  of  an  invisible  competitor 
for  a  prize  at  the  goal.  Or  hear  him  speak : — he  is. 
terse  and  precise ;  his  tones  too,  have  a  certain  mystic 
monotony  in  place  of  the  natural  modulations  of  a 
voica  so  young.  But  listen  to  his  opinions ;  how  ve- 
hement are  they;  how  darkly  coloured  his  representa- 
tions of  simple   facts  ;  —  exaggeration  sw  ells  every 


118 


FANATICISM 


sentence:  and  how  far  from  youthful  are  his  surmises; 
and  his  verdicts  how  inexorable  ! — not  a  look,  not  a 
word,  not  an  action  of  his  belongs  to  the  level  of  ordi- 
nary sympathies:  all  is  profound  as  the  abyss,  or  lofty 
as  the  clouds.  But,  strange  to  say,  you  may  find  this 
our  instance,  perhaps,  to  be  one  of  a  community  that 
boasts  itself  as  the  especial  enemy  of  intolerance. — 
he  has  been  bred  in  the  heart  of  the  very  straitest  sect 
of  liberality,  and  would  die  gladly  in  the  sacred  cause 
of  relisrious  freedom  !  Ah  !  how  like  is  man  to  man, 
strip  him  only  of  a  garb ! — Take  now  our  fervent 
youth,  and  immure  him  a  year  or  two  with  twenty  like 
himself,  in  some  dim  seclusion : — there  work  upon  his 
passions  with  whatever  is  acrid  in  the  system  he  already 
holds,  and  draw  him  on  with  a  little  art — the  art  of 
sacred  logic,  from  inference  to  inference,  until  he 
comes  into  a  state  of  mind  to  which  nothing,  the  most 
exorbitant,  can  seem  strange.  You  must  then  find  for 
him  a  sphere  of  excitement;  and  without  beads  or  a 
cowl  he  will  act  the  part  of  the  worthiest  son  of  the 
Church  that  has  lived. 

We  return  to  matters  of  history. — By  what  rule  of 
equity  is  a  balance  to  be  held  between  the  cruelties 
of  the  papacy,  and  the  exterminating  wars  of  the 
Moslem  conquerors?  Without  affirming  absolutely 
on  which  side  the  scale  might  turn,  certain  points  of 
comparison  at  once  present  themselves : — such  for 
example  as  these. — The  fury  of  the  early  propagators 
of  the  doctrine  of  Mohammed  was  that  of  warriors 
who,  having  launched  upon  the  great  enterprise  of 
conquering  the  world,  could  not  mince  their  measures. 
Or  if  we  turn  to  those  who  in  a  later  age  took  up  the 
cause  of  the  Prophet,  we  must  remember  that  the 
•ferocious  hordes  that  pressed  upon  Christendom  were 
Scythian  before  they  were  Mohammedan,  and  had 
long  been  used  to  drink  the  blood  of  their  enemies 
from  skulls,  when  they  came  to  be  taught  a*  new 
religion  from  the  Koran.  The  Moslem  conquests 
(under  the   caliphs)  were  a  storm  that  wasted  the 


OF    THE    BRAND. 


119 


countries  it  passed  over,  and  died  away ;  and  it  is  to 
be  remembered  that  the  conquerors,  when  once  firmly 
seated  in  their  fair  possessions,  exhibited  in  their  polity 
and  manners  far  more  that  was  liberal  and  humane 
than  the  world  had  long  before  seen,  or  than  it  saw 
elsewhere,  during  manv  a<jes  afterwards.*  Of  the 
intolerance  of  the  modern  Mohammedan  world, 
Turkish  and  Persian,  it  may  fairly  be  said  that, 
though  in  a  sense  attributable  to  the  religious  system 
of  those  nations,  their  despotic  policy  is  nothing  more 
than  a  homogeneous  part  of  the  oriental  economy. 
This  intolerance  is  Asiatic,  rather  than  Mohamme- 
dan. What  but  rigour  and  a  tyrannous  dogmatism 
can  be  imagined  to  find  a  place  among  nations  whose 
theory  of  government  springs  from  the  relation  of  lord, 
and  slave  ?  f  Whether  this  theory  belongs  to  the 
climate,  or  to  the  physical  conformation  of  the  race, 
or  to  what  else,  we  will  not  say  ;  but  come  whence  it 
may,  it  is  much  older  than  the  age  of  Mohammed ; 
nay — as  old  as  history. 

That  measure  of  liberty  of  opinion  (we  may  remark 
in  passing)  or  of  liberality  of  sentiment  and  of  scep- 
tical indifibrence,  which  of  late  has  worked  its  way 
through  the  wideninjr  fissures  of  the  Persian  and 
Turkish  governments,  is  not  merely  inconsistent  with 
the  abstract  idea  of  those  political  structures,  but 
incompatible  with  their  continuance.  If  already  the 
dyke  of  despotism  had  not  bulged  and  gaped,  the 
insidious  element  of  freedom  could  not  so  have  pene- 
trated its  substance: — the  fact  of  its  having  penetrated 
is  at  once  a  proof  of  decay,  and  a  prognostic  of  that 


*  In  the  next  Section  the  Mohammedan  military  fanaticism  will 
come  to  be  considered. 

t  The  reader  may  perhaps  think  that  the  southern  states  of  the 
American  Union,  where  no  other  marked  distinction  exists  between 
man  and  man,  except  that  of  lord  and  slave — or  of  sallow  skin  and 
black,  present  an  instance  directly  at  variance  with  the  position 
advanced  above. — We  assume  this  very  instance,  on  the  contrary,  as 
the  most  pertinent  that  could  be  adduced  in  confirmation  of  the 
general  truth. 


120 


FANATICISM 


coming  rush  of  waters  that  must,  within  a  century, 
lay  waste  (lay  waste  to  fertilize)  the  eastern  world, 
from  the  deserts  of  the  Indus  to  the  mouths  of  the 
Danube : — shall  we  add — to  the  shores  of  the  Baltic, 
and  the  banks  of  the  Elbe  ? 

But  the  elements  of  the  social  system,  and  the 
principles  of  its  construction  have  ever  been,  even 
from  the  remotest  times,  altogether  of  another  sort  in 
the  west.  Notwithstanding  all  oppressions  and  degra- 
dations, the  love  of  liberty,  through  a  long  course  of 
ages,  yes,  during  the  lapse  of  three  thousand  years, 
has  clung  to  the  European  race.  If  some  of  these 
families,  anciently  as  free  as  others,  have,  in  modern 
times,  quite  sunk  to  the  dust  under  the  foot  of  despo- 
tism, it  has  only  been  by  the  presence  and  aid  of  the 
spiritual  Power — by  the  Incubus  of  the  Church,  that 
the  people  have  fallen.  Popery  apart — every  nation 
west  of  the  Euxine  had  long  ago  been  free : — nav, 
had  never  been  enslaved.  The  papal  usurpation 
(thinking  of  it  now  only  as  a  system  of  polity)  has 
resided  in  Europe,  not  as  a  form  of  things  in  harmony 
with  the  spirit  and  temper  of  the  region ;  but  malgre 
the  aboriginal  character  with  which  it  has  always  had 
to  contend.*"  Popery  is  not  to  Europe  what  Moham- 
medism  is  to  Asia,  but  rather  a  long  invasion  of  a  soil 
which  nature  had  said  should  bear  nothing  that  was 
not  generous.  When  shall  the  European  families 
drive  the  exotic  tyranny  for  ever  from  their  shores ! 

There  is  little  difficulty  then  in  finding  a  sufficient 
reason,  though  not  the  sole  reason,  for  the  incompara- 
ble cruelties  of  popery ;  its  restless  jealousies,  its 
exterminations,  its  inexorable  revenge,  have  all  been 
proper  to  it  as  a  precarious  and  alien  despotism.  The 
consciousness  of  an  inherent  hostility  between  itself 


*  Every  one  knows  that  the  several  eras  in  which  the  papal 
despotism  consoUdated  and  extended  its  power  were  those  in  which 
the  civil  polities  of  Europe  were  in  the  feeblest  or  most  distracted 
condition.  The  termagant  watched  the  moment  always  when  the 
virile  power  of  the  nations  was  spent  or  fallen. 


OF    THE    BRAND. 


121 


and  the  temper  of  the  nations  it  has  seduced  and  sub- 
dued, has  made  it  a  tyranny  more  merciless  than  any 
other  mankind  has  tolerated.  Even  Popery,  we  may 
fairly  believe,  might  have  been  less  sanguinary  had  it 
from  the  first  seated  itself  in  some  congenial  torrid 
climate — native  to  abjectness  and  slavery. 

Were  it  true  that  this  ancient,  and  "now  decrepit 
Mother  of  corruption  had  actually  disappeared  from 
the  real  world  ;  or  even  could  we  believe,  without  a 
doubt,  that  she  was  very  speedily  to  vanish,  time 
might  be  better  spent  than  in  searching  any  deeper  for 
the  secrets  of  her  power.  But  alas,  it  is  not  so  ;  and 
moreover  it  is  true  that  a  portion  at  least  of  the  bad 
qualities  whence  this  power  arises,  attaches  to  other 
systems  beside  the  Romish  Church,  and  may  be  discov- 
ered in  dogmas  not  covered  bv  her  scarlet  mantle. 
On  all  accounts  then  we  niust  advance  in  our  scrutiny, 
and  expose,  if  it  be  possible,  the  hidden  impulses  of 
that  malign  fanaticism  which  popery  has  so  largely 
engendered.  t      •  , 

VVith  this  purpose  in  view,  something  must  be  said, 
1st,  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Romish  Church  ;  2dly,  of 
its  constitution  as  a  polity  ;  and  something,  3dly,  of  its 
sacerdotal  institute. 

1.  We  are,  of  course,  to  speak  of  the  Romish  doc- 
trine only  in  the  single  point  of  its  tendency  to  gener- 
ate, or  of  its  fitness  to  sustain,  a  sanguinary  fanaticism. 

The  prominent  article  of  the  New  Testament,  and 
which  distingushes  Christianity  from  all  other  relifrious 
systems,  is  a  doctrine  of  Mercy  incomparably  full,  ^r^ie, 
and  available.  And  yet  this  happy  announcement  of 
forgiveness  of  sins  takes  its  stand  upon  a  much  more 
distinct  and  alarming  assertion  of  the  rigour  of  Divine 
Justice,  and  of  the  extent  of  its  penal  consequences, 
than  hitherto  had  been  heard  of,  or  than  the  natural 
fears  of  conscious  guilt  would  suggest,  or  readily 
admit.  This  ample  promise  of  Grace,  and  this  appal- 
ling declaration  of  Wrath,  may  fairly  be  assumed  as 
the  prime  elements  of  true  religion,  working  always, 


122 


FANATICISM 


OF   THE    BRAND. 


123 


yt 


and  intended  to  work,  one  upon  another,  for  the  pro- 
duction of  those  vivid  emotions,  that  are  becoming  to 
man  in  his  actual  relation  to  God. 

What  less  than  the  most  serious  evils  can  then 
accrue  from  disjoining  in  any  manner  these  two  essen- 
tial and  correlative  principles,  or  from  any  sort  of  tam- 
pering with  the  efficacy  which  the  one  should  exert 
upon  the  other?  If,  for  example,  the  doctrine  of 
immutable  justice  and  future  wrath  be  brought  into 
question,  or  abated  of  its  force  and  meaning,  then 
instantly  the  doctrine  of  mercy  loses  its  significance, 
its  moment,  and  its  attractions;  and  fades  into  the 
vague  idea  of  an  indolent  clemency  on  the  part  of  the 
Supreme  Ruler— an  idea  which  at  once  relaxes  the 
motives  both  of  piety  and  morality,  ^uch  (we  appeal  to 
facts)  has  been  the  invariable  result  of  every  attempt  to 
reduce  this  plain  import  of  certain  passages  in  the  Gos- 
pels. Or,  on  the  other  hand,  if  the  rule  and  method  of 
forgiveness,  as  declared  in  the  Scriptures,  be  in  any  way 
abused,  then  will  the  threatened  wrath  take  a  wrong 
direction,  and  not  fail  (from  its  own  intrinsic  qua!- 
ity)  to  produce  the  most  dire  effects.  The  tremendous 
doctrine  of  eternal  perdition,  loosened  from  its  proper 
hold  of  the  conscience,  will  remain  at  large,  and  be  at 
the  disposal  of  the  spiritual  despot,  to  be  drawn  on 
this  side  or  that,  as  may  best  subserve  the  purposes  of 
intimidation  and  tyranny.  Nor  is  this  all,  for  the  same 
appalling  doctrine  so  perverted  by  the  despot,  will  take 
effect  upon  his  own  heart  and  imagination,  and  school 
him  to  act  his  part  as  the  unflinching  instrument  of 
every  horrid  barbarity. — The  zealot  tormentor,  taught 
from  the  pit,  wants  nothing  but  power  and  tools  to 
render  him  indeed  terrible  and  ruthless. 

If  it  were  demanded  to  give  in  a  few  words  the 
chief  incentive  of  the  ferocity  of  Romanism,  we  must 
plainly  say,  that  the  doctrine  of  eternal  damnation — 
as  held  and  perverted  by  the  Romish  Church,  is  the 
germ  of  its  cruelty.  Or  the  truth  (such  we  deem  it) 
may  be  expressed  in  general  terms — That  a  malignant 


fanaticism  of  some  kind  (truculent  if  opportunity  per- 
mits) will  attend  every  misrepresentation  or  misappli- 
cation of  what  the  Scriptures  affirm  concerning  future 
punishment.  It  should  be  added  that  an  error  of  this 
sort  naturally  follows  in  the  track  of  an  abused  doc- 
trine of  grace. 

Let  it  be  noted  that  our  Lord  and  his  ministers 
speak  of  the  wrath  of  God  as  provoked  by  nothing 
but  impiety  and  immorality;  and  they  leave  us  in  no 
doubt  of  what  it  is  specifically  which  they  mean  when 
they  issue  their  coniminations. — It  is  the  blasphemer 
and  the  impenitent:  it  is  the  murderer,  the  thief,  the 
liar,  the  slanderer,  the  impure,  the  adulterer,  the  per- 
jured person,  and  the  rapacious ;  or  in  a  word,  the 
sensual,  the  malignant  and  the  unjust,  who  have  to 
expect  the  fiery  indignation — the  future  "  tribulation 
and  anguish."  Terrible  as  it  is,  this  doctrine  leans 
with  its  whole  stress  to  the  side  favourable  to  virtue  ; 
nor  is  there  any  thing  mystic,  indefinite,  or  obscure 
attached  to  it.  If  any  complain  of  the  severity  of  the 
threat — let  them  forsake  the  evil  of  their  ways,  and  its 
severity  shall  not  touch  them.  Does  any  complain? 
nay  rather,  let  him  repent,  and  it  shall  go  well  with 
him. 

And  not  only,  in  the  preaching  of  our  Lord,  and  in 
the  writings  of  his  Apostles,  is  the  threatening  clearly 
attached  to  a  vicious  and  irreligious  \'iie,and  to  nothing 
else ;  but  it  is  employed  in  no  other  way,  and  for  no 
Other  purpose,  than  to  enforce,  or  to  give  solenmity 
to  the  invitations  of  mercy.  How  cogent  is  the  reason 
why  men  should  humble  themselves  before  Almighty 
God,  and  instantly  sue  for  the  pardon  of  sin  ! 

Thus  defined,  and  thus  employed,  the  doctrine, 
appalling  as  it  may  be,  was  clearly  an  engine  of  benev- 
olence : — it  must  have  been  grossly  perverted  if,  in 
any  case,  it  has  ceased  to  deserve  this  commendation. 
So  was  it  at  first,  and  so,  in  any  age,  whoever,  after 
the  example  of  Christ — the  Saviour  of  the  world, 
spends  life  and  strength  in  the  endeavour  to  lead  his 


ii 


124 


FANATICISM 


OP   THE    BRAND. 


125 


!i 


f 

i 


i 


fellows  to  the  arms  of  the  Divine  compassion,  because 
there  remains  a  "  fearful  looking  for  of  wrath"  which 
shall  fall  on  the  impenitent,  is  not  only  no  fanatic,  but 
deserves  the  praise,  and  will  win  the  recompense,  of 
the  highest  and  purest  philanthropy. 

Not  such  is  the  Romish  doctrine  of  wrath ;  nor 
such  the  spirit  or  style  of  its  preachers ;  nor  such  its 
pit  of  perdition. — What  is  the  Papal  Hell  but  the 
State  Prison  of  the  Papal  Tyranny? — The  future  woe, 
converted  into  the  instrument  of  its  oppressions,  has 
made  it  natural  that  the  inflictions  of  the  infernal 
dungeon  should  be  taken  as  the  exemplars  of  sacer- 
dotal barbarity.  All  offences  of  a  moral  kind,  even 
the  most  atrocious,  having  come  under  the  manage- 
ment of  the  Church,  and  being  made  the  suliject  of  a 
mercenary  commerce  between  her  and  the  trans- 
gressor, so  that  while  he  submits  implicitly  to  the 
direction  of  the  priest  (who  farms  heaven)  he  has 
nothing  to  fear,  the  bearing  of  the  doctrine  of  retribu- 
tion is  wholly  turned  off  from  the  consciences  of  men; 
and  the  genuine  association  of  ideas,  which  connects 
sin  and  punishment,  is  broken  up.  The  preacher  may 
still  declaim  about  the  righteous  judgment  of  God  ; 
but  in  fact,  and  in  every  man's  personal  apprehensions, 
the  terror  of  justice  has  passed  off  obliquely,  and  is  no 
more  thought  of  in  its  due  place.  The  future  Retri- 
bution remains  therefore  at  large  to  serve  the  turns  of 
the  hierarchy:  it  is  nothing  else  than  an  ecclesiastical 
terror.  The  Romish  place  of  perdition  awaits — the 
infidel,  and  the  heretic,  and  whoever  provokes  the 
jealousies  of  the  Church.  Let  us  fix  our  minds  a 
moment  upon  the  natural  consequences  of  this  per- 
version of  so  momentous  an  element  of  religion. 

We  will  imagine  then  that  we  have  received  and 
firmly  embraced  this  Romish  dogma,  as  true. — How 
does  it  affect  our  general  sentiments  toward  the  bulk 
of  mankind ;  or  what  impression  does  it  convey  of  the 
Divine  character  and  government  ?  LInder  such  an 
influence,  in  the  first  place,  we  learn  to  think  that  the 


most  heinous  crimes — crimes  aggravated  by  a  full 
knowledge  of  religion,  and  committed  in  the  face  of 
its  sanctions,  enjoy  perpetual  impunity  by  the  means 
of  a  villanous  and  interested  misprision  on  the  part  of 
the  functionaries  of  Heaven ;  so  that  in  fact  Justice 
takes  no  hold  of  those  whose  fortune  it  is  to  be  born 
upon  a  canonical  soil,  and  where,  the  dispensing 
power  having  its  agents,  pardons  are  always  in  the 
market.  The  actual  state  of  morals  in  countries 
where,  age  after  age,  nothing  has  been  tolerated  that 
might  serve  to  correct  the  proper  influence  of  popery 
— Spain,  Portugal,  Italy,  is  proof  enough  that  these 
suppositions  are  not  imaginary.* 

Yet  the  dogma  has  another,  and  perhaps  it  is  a 
worse  aspect.  Imbued  with  its  spirit,  we  turn  toward 
the  millions  of  mankind — pagan  and  Mohammedan, 
whose  misery  it  has  been  to  have  possessed  no 
religious  light — or  a  mere  glimmer,  and  who,  if  we 
are  to  trust  to  our  Lord's  rule  of  equity,  are  to  be 
"  beaten  with  few  stripes,"  for  this  proper  reason,  that 
they  knew  not  his  will : — but  upon  these,  we  are 
taught  to  think,  the  unrelieved  weight  of  the  future 
wrath  is  to  press. — These,  because  they  have  no  holy- 
water,  no  holy  oil,  no  absolving  priest,  are  to  suffer 
without  mitigation.  Thus  have  we  subverted  the 
order  of  reason  and  justice,  and  have  rendered  the 
righteous  retribution  of  Heaven,  which,  as  expounded 
in  the  Scriptures,  is  altogether  of  a  sanatory  influence, 
horribly  corrupt  and  despotic. 

The  practical  inference  is  natural  and  inevitable. — 
If  God  thus  deal  with  his  creatures — inflicting  the 
heaviest  penalties  where  there  has  been  the  lowest 

♦  The  state  of  manners  in  the  southern  countries  of  Europe  is  no\r 
unhappily  but  too  well  understood  in  England  ;  for  the  profligacy  of 
the  continent  has  of  late  been  shed  over  the  entire  surface  of  our 
ephemeral  literature.  No  reference  on  this  subject  need  be  made  to 
authorities.  If  it  be  alleged  that  the  manners  of  the  northern  and 
protestant  states  are  but  a  shade  or  two  better  than  those  of  the 
south,  we  shall  then  have  to  balance  the  unobstructed  influence  of 
popery  against  the  scarcely  at  all  obstructed  influence  of  infidelity — 
•nd  the  scale  is  seen  to  turn  a  little  in  favour  of  the  latter, 

12* 


126 


FANATICISM 


OF   THE    BRAND. 


127 


f 


responsibility;  and  allowing  a  mercenary  commuta- 
tion of  punishment  in  the  case  of  the  most  aggravated 
guilt,  why  may  not   man,  in    his   dealings  with   his 
fiellows,  follow  in  the  same  track,  though  at  a  humble 
distance  I     Who  can  affirm  that,  to  carry  the  brand 
of  exterminating  war  into  the   heart  of  pagan  and 
Mohammedan  lands — to  hack  and  rip  up  and  dash  to 
the  ground,  and  burn,  detested  tribes  of  misbehevers 
— miscreants^  is  not  a  religious  work  ?    If  it  be  not  so, 
then  the  harmony  that  should  subsist  between  divine 
and  human  virtue  is  broken.     Such  has  actually  been 
the  belief  and  practice  of  the  Romish  Church  in  every 
age.     Did  the  feeble  nations  of  the  Mexican  Isthmus, 
and  of  Peru,  fall  under  the  feet  of  the  most  Catholic 
people  of  Europe  ?     Yes ;    but  the   mere  avidity  of 
gold  would  not  have  prompted  so  many  torments  and 
so  many  massacres : — the  soldier  was  pushed  on  by 
the  friar,  with  this  very  dogma  of  perdition  burning  in 
his  bosom. 

And  yet  an  inference  which  had  to  be  carried  out 
a  thousand  miles,  or  across  the  Atlantic,  would  not 
immediately  affect  more  than  a  portion  of  the  people 
in  any  country.  Not  so  the  inference  which  fell  upon 
the  heretic  at  home.  In  this  application  of  it  every 
man — every  husband,  and  every  wife,  every  father, 
and  every  child,  might  be  concerned.*  Especially 
did  it  affect  the  sacerdotal  order,  through  all  its  ranks, 
and  at  every  moment ;  nay,  every  motive  of  corporate 
interest,  and  pride,  and  jealousy,  bore  upon  it  with  the 
greatest  force.  The  heathen  world  out  of  view,  then 
the  lake  of  perdition  was  to  be  peopled  only  by  heretics, 
and  by  the  contumacious  impugners  of  Church  power. 
. — "  Submit,  recant,  and  be  saved ;  persist  and  be 
damned." — Such  was  the  voice  of  the  Church,  and 

*  Deinde  promiscua  multiludo,  timore  perculsis  animis,  deferebant 
quosque  certatim,  nulla  neque  propinquitatis  neque  necessiludinia 
aut  beneficiorum  habita  ratione,  non  parenli  filius,  non  uxor  marito, 
non  cliens  patronu  parcebat.  Delationes  autem  erant  plerunque  de 
rebus  frivolis ;  ut  quisque  forte  aliquid  ob  superstitionem  in  aliquo 
reprehenderat.  Melchior  Adarriy  as  quoted  by  Bayle.  The  passage 
relates  to  the  establishment  of  a  court  o/*  the  Holy  Office. 


such  the  rule  of  its  proceedings ;  and  the  history  of 
Europe  during  a  full  thousand  years — a  history  writ- 
ten in  blood,  has  been  the  comment  on  the  rule. 

True  it  is,  that  the  Ecclesiastical  Hell  of  the  Romish 
despotism  has,  of  late,  been  closed,  and  a  seal  set  upon 
it  by  the  strong  hand  of  the  civil  power,  or  the  stronger 
hand  of  popular  opinion  ;  but  the  dogma  is  what  it 
was,  and  where  it  was.  The  pent-up  fire  of  its  revenge 
still  murmurs  through  the  vaults  of  the  spiritual  edifice, 
from  the  mouth  of  the  Tagus  to  the  Carpathian  moun- 
tains ;  give  it  only  wind,  and  how  should  it  rage  to 
the  skies  I  The  Waldenses,  the  Lollards,  the  Reforin- 
ed  of  Germany,  Italy,  Spain,  Holland,  England,  and 
the  Huguenots  of  France,  were  the  victims,  not  of  a 
cruel  age,  but  of  a  cruel  doctrine  ;  and  that  doctrine  is 
as  cruel  now,  as  it  was  in  the  pontificate  of  Innocent  HI. 

II.  A  vindictive  spirit  and  ferocious  acts  belong  of 
necessity  to  a  polity  such  as  that  of  the  Romish  Church. 
Already  we  have  mentioned  the  contrariety  which 
subsists  between  the  aboriginal  European  temper  (as 
compared  with  the  Asiatic)  and  a  tyranny  so  excessive 
as  that  of  the  Church,  and  have  noted  the  consequent 
severity  of  the  hierarchical  power.  But  this  is  not  all ; 
for  while  it  is  true  that  popery  is  alien  to  the  climate 
and  to  the  races  of  the  western  world,  it  exists  also, 
and  in  another  sense,  as  a  foreign  power  in  every  single 
country  of  Europe — Italy  excepted.  Need  we  then 
defend  the  general  principle  that  a  foreign  domination 
is  more  jealous,  and  oppressive,  and  less  placable  than 
a  domestic  government  1  Or  if  there  be  exceptions 
to  this  rule,  assuredly  the  Romish  church  does  not 
afford  one.  But  the  theme  is  trite.  Every  reader  of 
modern  history  must  have  observed  the  pernicious  in- 
fluence which  Italian  Churchmen  and  monks  have 
exerted  in  the  councils  of  the  European  states.  This 
influence  has  made  itself  seen  in  the  rigour  of  those 
measures  which  kings,  under  terror  of  excommunica- 
tion, have  been  compelled  to  adopt  for  the  maintenance 
of  the  far-stretched  authority  of  Rome; — and  espe- 


128 


FANATICISM 


OF  THE   BRAND. 


129 


cially  when  the  skirts  of  the  Church  fell  over  countries 
that  were  quickening  into  freedom.* 

Over  the  same  area,  or  nearly  so,  Imperial  Rome 
extended  her  sway;  but  her  instruments  of  power 
were  visible,  intelligible,  and  readily  applied ;  and 
therefore  admitted  of  leniency  and  reason  in  the  use 
of  them.  A  military  despotism,  founded  on  the  right 
of  conquest,  confides  in  its  means  of  securing  obedi- 
ence, and  is  often  less  afflictive  to  a  country  in  fact 
than  in  name.  It  must  be  otherwise,  and  always  has 
been  so,  with  a  ghostly  despotism.  The  conscious  in- 
distinctness of  the  grounds  on  which  it  demands  sub- 
mission inspires  it  with  an  anxiety  that  leads  it  to 
overdo  its  severities.  And  then  the  abominable  hypo- 
crisy of  not  itself  touching  the  sword  of  justice  (alack, 
the  cleanness  of  its  hands !)  but  of  setting  the  civil 
power  at  work  when  blood  is  to  be  shed,  can  never 
fail  to  render  its  executions  so  much  the  more  cruel  and 
severe.  To  be  tried  and  condemned  by  one  authority, 
and  punished  by  another,  is  a  hard  fate,  and  can  differ 
very  little  from  that  of  becoming  the  victim  of  blind  fury. 

Besides,  as  the  spiritual  Despotism  rules  by  usurping 
the  imagination  of  men,  and  is  seated  upon  their  fears 
of  an  awful  futurity,  it  will,  by  a  natural  connexion  or 
harmony  of  causes  have  recourse,  when  provoked,  to 
those  means  of  intimidation  that,  by  the  horror  they 
inspire,  call  up  the  faculty  on  which  the  tyranny  takes 
its  hold.  When  endangered  by  resistance  it  will  en- 
deavour to  regain  its  ground  by  such  displays  of  in- 

*  The  native  free  spirit  of  the  European  stock,  which  in  England 
has  long  had  its  scope,  has  in  no  age  been  altogether  broken  down 
in  France.  The  Gallican  Church,  century  after  century,  has  hung 
loose  upon  Rome  ;  and  the  papal  court  has  well  felt  how  precarious 
were  her  spiritual  possessions  west  of  the  Rhine  and  the  Rhone. 
The  horrojs  of  St.  Bartholomew,  and  the  cruelties  perpetrated  by 
Louis  XIV.  were  only  the  proper  expressions  of  the  conscious  alarms 
of  the  Romish  power  in  regard  to  France.  When  shall  France  learn 
to  blush  at  once  at  her  atheism,  and  at  her  superstitions  ?  Is  it  any 
thing  but  her  atheism  and  her  superstitions  that  have  compelled  her 
to  cede  to  England  the  first  place  of  moral  influence  in  the  world  at 
large,  and  of  foreign  empire  ?  The  horrors  committed  in  the  Nether- 
lands by  the  Duke  of  Alva  afford  another  illustration  of  the  rule  that 
has  guided  the  Romish  despotism  in  measuring  out  its  vengeance. 


tolerable  anguish  in  the  persons  of  its  foes  as  shall 
fitly  symbolize  the  torments  that  await  them  in  the 
world  to  come.  The  doctrine  of  perdition,  as  held  by 
the  Church,  will  be  visibly  typified  in  the  modes  of 
punishment  it  employs.  Fire  is  the  chosen  means  of 
its  chastisements.* 

III.  We  have  to  speak,  lastly,  of  the  Romish  clerical 
institution,  and  to  exhibit  that  natural  connexion  of 
motives  which  has  dfawn  upon  the  temper  of  its  sacer- 
dotal order  a  fanaticism  more  intensely  ferocious  than 
the  world  has  elsewhere  seen. 

*  A  curious  comparison  mi^ht  be  drawn  between  different  nations 
mi  the  point  of  the  nmdes  of  capital  punishnient  in  use  among  tlicm. 
The  ?ul)ject  can  only  be  danced  at  here  ;  but  wtll  deserves'a  more 
ample  treatment.  The  Jews  had  three  or  four  modes  of  inflicting 
death,  but  chiefly  used  the  most  summary — hanging  or  stoning. 
The  Greeks  had  seven  or  eight;  yet  very  rarely  had  recourse 
to  those  which  w-ere  excruciating:— the  poi.-joned  cup  was  the  most 
usual  ;  or  casting  from  a  precipice.  But  fine,  slavery,  or  banish- 
ment, were  much  oftener  employed  than  capital  punishment.  The 
Romans,  after  they  had  conquered  the  world,  and  had  amalgamated 
the  usapes  of  barbarous  nations  with  the  ancient  practice  of  the  Re- 
public, added  to  their  list  of  penal  terrors  several  e.xcruciatinff  deaths  ; 
especially  empalement  or  cruciti.xion.  Yet,  if  the  acts  of  a  few  exe- 
crable tyrants  are  excepted,  none  but  horrid  and  incorrigible  crim- 
inals were  consigned  to  lingering  agonies.  The  institutions  of  Mo- 
hammed rather  mitigated  and  restrained,  than  agizravated  the  penal 
severities  of  the  oriental  nations.  Fines,  whipping,  or  cudgeling, 
were  admitted  instead  of  death,  very  freely.  And  whatever  horrors 
may  have  been  perpetrated  by  savage  Scythian  chiefs,  it  cannot  be 
affirmed  that  cruelty  is  thec/irt/-nder  of  the  Mohammedan  penal  code. 

The  Romish  Church,  simplifying  its  practice,  has  fixed  upon  that 
one  mode  of  inflicting  death  v\  hich  must  altogether  be  deemed  the 
most  horrible  of  all.  She  admits  indeed,  in  certain  cases,  of  stranglin^T 
before  burning ;  but  again,  in  other  cases,  has  used  slow  roasting 
instead  of  burning  at  the  stake  But  the  three  main  circumstances 
that  distinguish  the  papal  executions  from  those  of  any  other  polity 
are  those— 1st.  The  prodigious  number  of  the  victims  of  her  courts, 
2d,  That  all  but  a  very  few  of  these  victims  were  confessedly  guiltless 
of  crimes  visibly  injurious  to  society.  And  3d,  That,  while  other 
polities  have  reserved  ignominious  and  excruciating  punishments  for 
rare  instances  of  obdurate  wickedness,  or  for  frightful  crimes,  and 
for  persons  of  the  vilest  rank,  the  Romish  polity  has  put  out  of  view 
all  such  distinctions,  and  has,  without  respect  for  rank,  or  habits,  or 

f)ersonal  merit,  consigned  to  the  flames — nobles,  prelates,  men  of 
etters,  women— children.  Nothing  at  all  comparable  to  the  blind 
ferocity  of  the  Romish  executions  has  elsewhere  been  seen  in  the 
world  : — the  world  has  seen  no  such  judges  as  her  priests. 


130 


FANATICISM 


or   TMI::  UKAISD. 


131 


If  the  secular  influence  of  the  Papal  superstition 
be  now  immensely  diminished,  and  if  the  engines  it 
once  wielded  have  been  broken  ;  if  no  longer  it  can 
breathe  the  rage  of  war  into  the  hearts  of  kings;  and 
if  the  humility  it  effected  in  the  twelfth  century,  is 
forced  upon  it  in  the  nineteenth,  and  if  therefore  the 
danger  of  its  hurling  a  brand  again  into  the  bosom  of 
the  European  community  be  extremely  small — it  is 
nevertheless  true  that  the  Romish  Clerical  Institution 
does  still  exist  on  all  sides  of  us:  and  that  its  elements 
are,  in  the  nineteenth  century,  precisely  what  they  were 
in  the  twelfth.  And  it  is  true  moreover  that  an  institu- 
tion so  incurably  pernicious  should  be  looked  at,  not- 
withstanding its  actual  feebleness  at  any  moment,  as  a 
virulent  germ,  that  waits  only  a  favourable  season  to 
spring  up  with  all  its  native  properties  about  it. 

The  errorsof  Romanism,  doctrinal  and  practical  we 
are  so  much  accustomed  to  regard  as  objects  of  theo- 
logical reprobation,  that  it  is  not  easy  at  once  to  look  at 
them  in  the  light  of  what  may  be  termed  their  physical 
quality.  We  propose  however  now  to  consider  the 
Romish  clerical  institution  in  that  light,  (all  Biblical 
argument  apart,)  and  especially  to  trace  in  it  the  nat- 
ural generation  of  the  spirit  of  cruelty. 

A  word  already  has  been  said  of  the  moral  peril  to 
which  the  sacerdotal  order,  under  even  the  most 
auspicious  circumstances  is  exposed.  Of  the  several 
points  of  disadvantage  there  alluded  to,  we  now  select 
only  one  ; — but  it  is  the  chief,  and  it  is  that  one  which 
our  proper  subject  points  to.  We  aflirm  then  that  the 
law  of  celibacy,  taking  effect,  as  it  does,  upon  a  large 
and  proniiscuous  body  of  men,  cannot  fail  to  produce, 
in  a  certain  proportion  of  instances,  a  rancorous  fanat- 
icism. The  broad  fact  that  it  has  done  so,  we  take  as 
the  guide  and  support  of  our  argument ,  and  turn  to 
the  common  principles  of  human  nature  for  the  inter- 
pretation of  the  fact. 

Nothing  intelligible  can  be  meant  by  the  phrase — 
the  laws  of  Nature  ;  if  we  do  not  understand — Divine 
Constitutions  wise  and  good,  which  are  not  to  be  tam- 


pered with,  but  at  our  cost.  To  say  that  such  or 
such  is  the  intention  of  nature,  is  to  imply  that  some 
severe,  and  often  incalculable  mischief  will  accrue 
when  that  specific  intention  is  thwarted.  The  usages  of 
nations,  or  their  political  institutions,  or  their  religious 
practices,  have  in  a  thousand  modes  contravened  the 
beneficent  purposes  of  the  Creator ;  but  never  have 
done  so  without  entailing  innumerable  woes.  Yet  is 
it  remarkable  that  in  such  cases  the  actual  ill  conse- 
quence, often,  has  not  been  altogether  of  the  sort 
that  would  have  been  looked  for ;  or  has  not  been 
apparently  the  direct  effect  of  the  special  cause.  An 
evil,  such  as  none  had  foreseen,  breaks  out,  on  the  one 
hand  or  the  other,  and  stretches,  we  know  not  how 
far.  In  truth,  the  great  machine  of  the  world — intel- 
lectual and  physical,  is  so  intricate,  and  so  remotely 
compacted  part  with  part,  that  when  we  disturb  a 
power,  no  hj'man  sagacity  can  say  where,  or  at  what 
stage  our  presumption  will  meet  its  punishment.  Thus 
we  shall  find  it  to  have  been  with  the  celibacy  of  the 
Romish  priesthood.  The  direct  and  obvious  incon- 
veniences and  evils  of  the  institution  have  indeed  fol- 
lowed it  every  where,  and  have  been  seen  in  the 
profligacy  it  has  spread  over  the  face  of  society,  in 
the  abominations  it  has  fostered,  and  in  the  personal 
sorrows  it  has  entailed.  But  these,  shall  we  say,  have 
not  been  the  main  mischiefs  of  the  system ;  for  we 
regard  as  deeper  and  more  extensive  than  any  of  them, 
the  encouragement  it  has  given  to  exorbitant  and 
inexorable  opinions,  to  portentous  modes  of  feeling,  to 
outrageous  courses  of  conduct,  and,  in  a  word,  to  the 
spirit  that  delights  in  destruction  and  torture.  The 
sanguinary  fanaticism  of  the  Romish  Church  we  trace, 
through  no  very  circuitous  track,  to  the  unnatural  per- 
sonal condition  of  its  ministers.* 

♦A  multiplicity  of  independent  circumstances  had  influence  in 
ripening  the  two  principles — namely  of  clerical  celibacy  and  eccle- 
siastical intolerance  :  but  it  is  fair  to  point  out  the  coincident  growth 
of  the  two.  In  truth  the  latter  followed  so  closely  and  constantly 
upon  the  former  that  to  deny  all  connexion  of  causation  ia  to  be  reso- 
lutely incredulous. 


132 


FANATICISM 


OF   THE    BRAND. 


198 


!it 


•    I. 


;l 


4 


I 


The  true  extent  of  the  violence  done  to  human 
nature  by  the  practice  of  religious  cehbacy  has  been 
in  a  great  measure  concealed  from  notice  by  a  partial 
fact  that  seems  to  excuse  it. — It  is  always  true  that,  in 
a  body  of  men  taken  at  random,  a  certain  number 
will  be  found  (we  need  not  hazard  a  conjecture  as  to 
its  amount)  to  whom,  from  peculiarity  of  tempera- 
ment, a  life  of  celibacy  cannot  be  deemed  unnatural, 
and  to  whom  it  will  be  no  grievance.  At  least  it  may 
be  affirmed  of  such  that  some  moderate  and  acci- 
dental motive  of  prudence,  or  taste,  or  the  vexations 
of  an  early  disappointment ;  or  perhaps  a  praiseworthy 
regard  to  the  welfare  of  relatives,  will  abundantly 
suffice  to  reconcile  them  to  their  singular  lot.  Then 
beyond  this  small  circle  there  will  be  a  wider  one, 
including  not  a  very  few,  to  whom  a  motive  some 
degrees  stronger  will  prove  efficient  to  the  same  end. 
— A  vigorous  selfishness,  abhorrent  of  disturbance  m  its 
comforts,  or  fearful  of  the  diminution  of  its 'dainties, 
will  answer  such  a  purpose  : — are  there  not  those 
who  would  never  marry  lest  they  should  be  compelled 
to  dine  less  sumptuously  ?  Or  a  strong  intellectual 
taste  produces  the  same  effect: — there  have  been 
artists  and  philosophers,  many  ;  yes  some  of  the  most 
illustrious  of  men,  who,  having  wedded  a  fair  ideal, 
have  sought  no  other  love.  Still  more  (and  to  ap- 
proach our  specific  subject)  the  powerful  sentiments 
of  religion,  have  in  very  many  instances,  and  in  a 
manner  not  culpable,  (sometimes  commendable,)  sepa- 
rated men  from  the  ordinary  lot,  and  rendered  them 
in  a  genuine  sense  virtuous,  as  well  as  happy,  in  single 
life.  Such  cases — exceptions  made  without  violence, 
it  is  proper  to  take  account  of; — they  are  Nature's 
exceptions,  and  those  who  come  fairly  under  the 
description  shall  be  styled,  if  they  please,  a  physical 
aristocracy — born  to  illustrate  the  supremacy  of  Mind. 

Now  inasmuch  as  religious  motives — being  more 
profound  than  any  others,  can  never  be  brought  with- 
in calculation,  so  as  that  we  might  fix  a  limit  to  their 


power,  it  must  be  deemed  impracticable  to  ascertain 
to  what  extent  they  may  operate  safely,  and  without 
engendering  much  positive  evil,  in  swelling  the  com- 
pany of  the  unmarried.  A  large  space  should  be  left 
open  for  exceptions  of  this  kind ;  and  we  should  be 
slow  to  inculpate  motives,  or  to  condemn  a  course  of 
conduct  which,  in  the  eye  of  Heaven,  may  not  be 
reprehensible.  In  times  of  great  religious  excitement, 
and  especially  during  the  undisputed  prevalence  of 
enthusiastic  opinions,  who  shall  say  whether  ten  or 
twenty  in  a  hundred  might  not  devote  themselves  to 
celibacy,  and  yet  neither  undergo  nor  diffuse  a  sensi- 
ble injury  ?  Human  nature  has  a  pliability  that  admits 
of  its  adapting  itself  to  very  great  variations  of  senti- 
ment and  practice. 

The  exceptive  fact,  such  as  we  have  stated  it,  was 
manifestly  the  rudiment  of  the  ancient  religious  celi- 
bacy ;  and  it  ought  to  be  granted  that,  so  long  as  a 
high  and  genuine  excitement  lasted,  and  moreover 
before  spiritual  despotism  came  in  to  avail  itself  of  the 
usage,  and  to  stretch  the  anomaly  beyond  its  natural 
limits,  the  ill  consequences  would  not  be  extreme. 
But  how  immensely  different  is  the  state  of  things, 
and  how  must  the  mischief  be  aggravated,  when  the 
law  and  custom  of  celibacy,  having  come  to  constitute 
an  essential  and  permanent  element  of  the  social  and 
political  system  of  a  country,  not  merely  takes  up  the 
little  band  of  ccelibes  by  destination  of  nature  ;  but  is 
every  day  applied,  by  priestly  or  paternal  tyranny,  to 
temperaments  of  all  kinds,  and  with  a  blind  cruelty  is 
made  to  include  those  very  instances  upon  which  it 
will  not  fail  to  inflict  the  W'Orst  imaginable  injuries ! 
In  thinking  of  the  celibacy  of  the  Romish  clergy,  we 
are  too  much  accustomed  to  regard  it  under  the  palli- 
ation of  supposing  that  it  is  an  institution  which  just 
serves  to  draw  into  a  company  the  scattered  indi- 
viduals of  that  frigid  class  which  every  where  exists ; 
— whereas  in  fact  it  observes  no  such  rule  of  selection. 

The  age  at  which  youth  are  devoted  to  the  service 

13 


134 


FANATICISM 


OF   THE    BRAND. 


135 


of  the  Church  makes  it  certain  that,  in  by  far  the 
greater  number  of  instances,  this  decision  is  ahogether 
irrespective  of  any  physical  aptitude  to  submit  to  the 
condition  imposed  upon  the  ministers  of  religion.* 
Might  we  advance  a  step  further  and  conjecture  that, 
so  far  as  personal  fitness  is  at  all  thought  of,  there  is  a 
double  probability  that  the  most  unhappy  cases  will 
be  thrown  into  the  toils  of  the  presumptuous  vow? — 
Who  does  not  know  that  an  early  destination  to  the 
Church  very  often  is  the  consequence  (in  the  first 
place)  of  a  manifest  sluggishness  of  the  animal  and 
mental  faculties — a  sensual  and  indolent  propension, 
which,  though  it  must  cut  off  a  man's  chance  of  suc- 
cess in  the  arduous  engagements  of  common  life,  is 
likely  to  be  no  bar  to  his  advancement  in  the  sacred 
calling ;  and  certainly  can  never  expose  him  to  cruel 
mortifications  in  the  discharge  of  its  even-paced  func- 
tions.— But  alas,  what  will  the  oath  of  virginity  prob- 
ably do  for  constitutions  of  this  order — the  very  idea 
must  be  dropped.  Or  (in  the  second  place)  a  youth 
is  not  seldom  devoted  to  the  clerical  profession  from 

*  In  boyhood  ordinarily.  Altbough  celibacy  was  not  imposed  upon 
the  secular  clergy  until  long  afier  the  monkish  sy?tom  iiad  reached 
its  settled  form,  yet  when  it  was  so  imposed,  what  had  been  the 
iisa^e  of  the  monastery  became  the  usage  of  the  clergry  universally. 
And  as  the  monastic  vow  was  often  taken  before  the  eighteenth  year 
(for  we  find  Gregory  the  Great  fixing  that  as  the  earliest  age  in 
certain  exceptive  cases)  so  was  it  usual  for  the  sacerdotal  function  to 
be  chosen  irrevocably  at  the  same  period  of  life.  Nay,  it  would  seem 
that  ordination,  and  church  preferment  even,  were  often  conferred 
upon  mere  striphngs.  Scholarcs  pueri  et  impuberes  adoleseentuli 
ob  sanguinis  dignitatem  promoventur  ad  ecclesiasticas  dignitates,  et 
de  sub  ferula  transferuntur  ad  principandum  presbyteris  ;  laetiores 
interim  quod  virgas  evaserint,  quam  quod  meruerint  principalum. — 
St.  Bernard  de  Officio  Episcoporum,  c.  7.  Cautions  against  ihe  ordi- 
nation of  beardless  youths  are  of  frequent  occurrence,  proving  the 
abuse  to  have  been  common  ;  Pueri  ad  sacros  ordines  nullatenus 
admittantur,  ne  tanto  periculosius  cadant,  quanto  citius  conscendere 
ad  altiora  festinant.  In  later  times,  as  it  is  well  known,  the  transition 
has  been  immediate  from  school  to  the  church.  It  lias  been  the 
pohcy  of  the  Jesuits  especially  to  make  their  selection  of  youths  from 
the  schools  under  their  care.  The  earliest  display  of  intellectual 
power  fixed  the  eye  of  the  superintendant ;  and  forthwith  the  venora 
of  the  society's  fanaticism  was  shed  into  the  victim's  mind. 


reasons  of  an  opposite  kind,  namely  a  precocious  dis- 
play of  intellectual  tastes,  with  its  attendant  irritable 
delicacy  or  debility  of  constitution,  which  is  foreseen 
to  preclude  laborious  employments.  And  yet  these 
very  cases  (nine  out  of  ten  of  them)  are  precisely 
those  in  which  the  most  lamentable  consequences 
must  ensue  from  the  violence  done  to  nature  by  the 
sacerdotal  institute. 

The  high  importance  of  the  subject — the  incalc  u 
lable  extent  of  the  evils  that  have  attached  to  it — the 
actual  existence  of  the  abuse  in  our  own  times ;  and 
(may  we  add)  some  appearance  of  the  rise  of  a  gen- 
eral indignation  against  it  even  in  the  heart  of  catholic 
countries,  invite  and  may  excuse  (notwithstanding  the 
difficulty  of  doing  so)  our  advancing; — nay,  the  sub- 
ject is  inseparable  from  the  specific  theme  we  have  in 
hand. 

Before  we  insist  upon  s;ome  more  special  matter 
let   us   for  a  moment   consider  what,  though   oftes, 
adverted  to,  can  never  be  too  much  regarded — thn 
n€gative  influence  of  clerical  celibacy,  as  it  cuts  oe 
from  the  unhappy  class  of  men  to  whom  it  applieff 
the  very  means  which  God  has  provided,  and  the  onl^ 
generally  efficacious  means^  of  generating  sentimentjl 
of  compassion  and  tenderness  in  the  bosoms  of  mens 
Doubtless  there  are  born  a  few  milky  natures,  sof. 
and   sensitive,  that,   without  wife  or  child,   feel   and 
weep,  and  are  kind  as  woman.     But  taking  men  at 
large,  and  taking  them  exposed  as  they  are  to  the 
rude  operation  of  laborious  occupations,  and  to  the 
ungentle   collisions  of  sordid   interest,  it  is  only  as 
husband  and  father,  and  as  possessors  of  the  enjoy- 
ments of  home,  that  the  rough  force  of  the  mind,  and 
the  harshness  of  the  temper,  are  broken  down — that 
gross  selfishness  is  attempered ;   and  especially  that 
the  habit  is  formed  of  considering  and  of  realizing  b  y 
sympathy,  the  pains,  infirmities,  wants,  and  sorrows    of 
others.*      It  is  in  this  point  peculiarly  that  hum  an 

*  Uxor  et  liberi  disciplina  quaedam  humanitatis,  at  ccelibes  tetri 
et  «ef  eru — Bacon, 


136 


FANATICISM 


nature  needs  a  softening  power;  and  admits  it  too. 
Barbarities  often  of  the  worst  sort  spring  from  the 
mere  want  of  the  habit  of  regarding  the  feelings  of 
others ;  but  this  habit  is  not  of  spontaneous  growth ; 
it  must  be  inwrought  by  the  repetition  of  proper 
occasions. 

Amid  the  stern  contentions  of  public  life,  or  under 
the  severe  labours  and  dangers  of  the  field,  a  man  is 
learning  to  discard  as  an  incumbrance  every  gentle 
emotion,  and  is  arming  himself  to  bear  down  opposi- 
tion. But  he  comes  home  (and  unless  unblessed 
indeed)  is  schooled  in  another  and  a  better  lesson. 
Taken  even  at  the  lowest  calculation,  the  amount  of 
this  counter-influence  is  vast. — What  would  be  the 

world  if  we  can  imagine  it  to  be  wholly  withdrawn? 

Look  but  to  the  rugged  labourer,  impenetrable  and 
insensible  as  he  seems,  and  follow  him,  when  his  task 
is  done,  to  the  door  where  he  meets  helpless  playful 
infancy — where  he  finds  that  his  wants  have  been 
thought  of— where  he  has  offices  of  kindness  to  dis- 
charge : — follow  him,  and  admire  the  provision  made 
for  correcting  in  one  hour  the  ungracious  influences  of 
twelve  !  Nor  is  our  supposition  romantic. — Whoever 
has  been  conversant  with  the  lower  classes,  and  who- 
ever has  an  eye  and  an  ear  to  catch  the  expressions 
of  human  charities,  as .  rudely  uttered  or  uncouthly 
displayed,  must  often,  in  the  crowd  that  gathers  in  a 
street  about  distress,  have  detected  home-taught  hearts^ 
and  paternal  sympathies,  where  the  aspect  and  the 
tones  indicated  only  a  sensual  ferocity. 

Should  we  count  it  then  a  light  matter  to  come  in 
upon  the  circle  of  the  domestic  remedial  influence 
(God's  beneficent  ordinance)  with  our  monstrous 
institutions,  and  at  a  stroke  to  cut  off"  from  a  numerous 
body  of  men,  and  for  ever,  and  from  the  class  that 
are  to  be  the  teachers  of  mercy,  all  their  part  in  the 
economy  of  human  kindness  ?  If  indeed  the  design 
were  horrid,  the  means  would  be  fit ;  but  if  it  be 
religious,  how  preposterous  are  the  means  1 


OF   THE    BRAND. 


137 


Let  it  only  be  imagined  that  the  preservation  of  the 
social  system  demanded  some  necessary  office,  at 
once  foul  and  sanguinary,  hard  and  loathsome,  to  be 
discharged,  and  that,  to  secure  a  supply  of  wretched 
beings  to  go  through  with  the  cruel  function,  it  were 
deemed  proper  to  train  from  the  cradle  a  certain  pro- 
portion of  mankind. — ^Among  the  various  means  that 
might  be  devised  for  effecting  the  initiation  of  such  a 
miserable  class,  and  for  securing  to  it  an  education 
exclusive  of  every  gentle  sympathy,  and  of  rendering 
our  agents  both  impure  and  rancorous,  what  measure 
more  efficacious  could  be  imagined  than  that  of  impos- 
ing upon  the  unfortunate  band  the  very  celibacy  in 
which  the  Romish  Church  breeds  her  ministers  ? 

We  must  yet  look  at  this  institution  in  its  operation 
upon  specific  temperaments. 

It  is  fair  to  assume  that,  of  a  body  of  men  taken  at 
hazard  from  the  mass,  and  placed  under  the  restraint 
(or  rather  the  profession)  of  continence,  a  considerable 
portion — perhaps  a  third,  will  very  early  in  their 
course  throw  off*  every  thing  but  their  hypocrisy,  and 
become  thoroughly  profligate.  The  notorious  con- 
dition of  those  countries  where  nothing  has  forbidden 
the  natural  expansion  of  the  Romish  system,  would 
warrant  our  affirming  that  two-thirds  of  its  clergy 
come  under  such  a  description.  Nay,  perhaps  our 
English  credulity  w^ould  be  ridiculed  at  Madrid, 
Grenada,  Lisbon,  Florence,  Lima,  or  Rio  Janeiro,  if 
we  presumed  that  any  more  than  a  very  few  of  the 
sacerdotal  class  were  not  utterly  debauched.*     Now« 


:l 


♦  The  Romanists  can  have  no  more  right  to  boast  of  the  purity  of 
the  Catholic  clergy  ofEjig-^fint/,  or  to  appeal  to  the  manners  (confessedly 
respectable)  of  English  priests,  as  a  fair  specimen  of  the  sacerdotal 
bocly,  than  modern  deists  have  to  take  a  parallel  advantage  of  the 
mild  temper  and  irreproachable  character  of  some  who  now  reject 
Christianity.  To  judge  equitably  of  Deism,  we  must  look  at  it  where 
it  has  received  no  correcting  influence  from  Christianity.  Popery 
raust  be  judged  on  the  same  principle.  We  do  not  ask  what  Romish 
priests  are  when  surrounded  by  protestantism  ;  but  what  where  the 
system  develops  itself  without  restraint.    Most  readily  and  cheerfully 

13* 


138 


FANATICISM 


OP   THE    BRAND. 


139 


if  men  of  this  sort  are  to  be  placed  by  the  side  of  the 
licentious  "  out  of  orders,"  then  the  difference  against 
them  will  consist  in  that  aggravation  of  crime  which 
his  sacrilege  and  blasphemy  heap  upon  the  head  of  the 
Churchman.  As  violator  and  corruptor  of  every 
family  about  him,  he  makes  his  way,  as  it  were, 
through  the  presence  chamber  of  the  Eternal  Majesty, 
and,  as  he  goes,  formally  invites  the  Omniscient  Purity 
to  look  upon  his  deeds  of  shame  ! 

It  cannot  but  happen  that  the  dissolute  priest — one 
hour  surpliced  and  before  the  altar,  and  the  next — 
where   we    must    not    follow   him,   should    become 
intensely  more  wicked  than  the  secular  man  of  plea- 
sure.     So  foul  at  heart  will  he   become,  that  no 
enormity  can  distaste  or  alarm  him.     Not  often  are 
such  men  in  any  sense  fanatics ; — of  enthusiasm  they 
are  incapable,  and  rancour  is  not  their  characteristic. 
Nevertheless,  in  times  of  general  excitement,  or  at  the 
call  of  superiors,  and  for  the  support  of  corporate 
interests,  they  will  fall  into  their  places  around  the 
scaffold,  or  the  stake,  with  much  composure ; — and 
lend  their  hands  too  in  the  work  if  needed.     Nay, 
human  nature  admits,  when  it  has  reached  this  stage 
of  corruption,  of  an  infernal  frenzy:  sensuality  and 
cruelty  in  a  moment  collapsing,  and  the  herd  of  swine 
suddenly  seized  of  the  demon  of  malice  rush  on — not 
themselves  indeed  to  dash  from  the  precipice,  but  to 
fall  upon  the  innocent. 

To  omit  lesser  distinctions,  we  may  next  adduce 
the  instance  of  those,  and  they  will  not  be  a  few,  of  a 
middle  sort,  who  though  they  may  once  and  again 
have  fallen  under  peculiar  temptations,  and  so  may 
have  lost  that  mens  conscia  recti  which  their  vow 
should  have  preserved,  are  nevertheless  ordinarily 
retained  in  the  path  of  virtue  by  the  motives  proper 
to  their  order ; — by  a  sense  of  professional  decorum, 

is  it  granted  that,  notwithstanding  the  cruel  disadvantages  of  his 
condition,  the  English  priest  is  ordinarily  correct  in  his  behayiour, 
and  estimable  as  a  member  of  society. 


by  ecclesiastical  pride,  and  by  sentiments  too  which, 
for  want  of  an  unexceptionable  term,  must  be  called — 
religious.  And  yet  the  continence  of  men  of  this  class 
is  not  at  all  attributable  to  coldness  of  temperament. 
We  must  stop  short  of  a  full  explication  of  the  state 
of  feeling  likely  to  grow  out  of  a  position  such  as  this  ; 
it  may  however  be  said  that  the  human  mind  can 
hardly  be  placed  in  circumstances  more  pitiable  or 
injurious.  Quite  unlike  to  it  is  the  voluntary  celibacy 
of  secular  men  of  similar  constitution. — The  iron  girdle 
of  a  solemn  irrevocable  oath,  galling  the  conscience, 
because  a  violated  oath,  and  yet  not  to  be  laid  aside — 
the  Churchman's  prudery  of  spotless  virtue,  wounded 
to  the  quick  by  humiliating  recollections,  and  the 
impulses  of  nature  fought  off  from  disadvantageous 
ground,  leave  no  tranquillity,  allow  no  repose  within. 
Rather  a  tempest  of  passion  rages  in  the  bosom — a 
tempest  so  much  the  more  afflictive,  because  it  may 
gain  no  vent.* 

*  It  were  better  to  sustain  in  patience  the  imputation  of  advancing 
exaggerated  statements,  and  of  giving  a  stronger  colour  to  an  argu- 
ment than  the  facts  of  the  case  would  justify,  than  to  do  the  unin- 
itiated reader  so  serious  an  injury  as  to  bring  to  light  the  evidence 
that  bears  upon  this  question.  An  appeal  therefore  is  made  to 
whoever  has  actually  perused,  or  at  least  looked  into  the  ascetic 
writers  from  Macarius,  Ephraem,  Palladius,  and  Cassian,  downwards 
to  those  of  the  twelfth  century.  On  the  ground  of  the  evidence 
which  might  from  those  sources  be  adduced,  a  general  result  may  be 
stated  under  three  heads — namely, 

1st.  That  the  monastic  vow  and  the  life  of  celibacy  failed  to 
SECURE  THE  PROFESSED  OBJECT  of  the  institution  in  all  but  a  very 
few  instances,  and  that  it  did  not  promote  that  purity  of  the  heart 
which  was  acknowledged  to  be  its  only  good  end. 

2d.  That  beside  the  evil  of  cutting  men  off  from  the  common 
enjoyments,  duties,  and  sympathies  of  life,  the  work  of  maintaining 
and  defending  their  chastity  (exterior  and  interior)  absorbed  almost 
the  whole  energies  of  those  (a  very  few  excepted)  who  sincerely 
laboured  at  it : — so  that  to  be  chaste,  in  fact  and  in  heart,  was  pretty 
nearly  the  sum  of  what  the  monk  could  do,  even  with  the  aid  of 
starvation,  excessive  bodily  toils,  and  depletic  medicine — to  say 
nothing  of  his  prayers,  tears,  and  flagellations. 

3d.  That  the  monastic  institution,  even  during  its  earlier  and 
better  era,  entailed  (he  most  deplorable  miseries,  and  generated  the 
foulest  and  most  abominable  practices,  so  that,  for  every  veritable 


<S 


140 


FANATICISM 


OF    THE    BRAND, 


141 


To  the  tumultuous  stage  of  this  mental  conflict  there' 
succeeds  perhaps,  either  a  dead  hopeless  debihty,  most 
pitiable  to  think  of,  or  perversions  of  the  mind  stiU 
more  sad. — But  if  the  character  have  more  vigour, 
and  does  in  fact  repel  the  assailants  that  would  tread 
it  in  the  dust,  such  men  will  be  found  in  a  state  of 
peculiar  preparation  for  admitting  malignant  excite- 
ments.— the  very  substance  of  the  soul  has  become 
combustible — a  spark  kindles  the  latent  heat,  and  the 
passions  blaze  to  heaven.  A  settled  feeling,  hard  to 
define  or  describe,  but  which  might  be  called  a  chro- 
nic revenge,  of  which  humanity  at  large,  and  all  forms 
of  enjoyment  are  the  objects,  is  the  habit  of  the  mind, 
and  is  always  in  readiness  to  be  shed  forth  upon 
whatever  it  may  meet.  Some  grateful  alleviation  of 
the  inward  torment  is  obtained  by  merely  witnessing 
sanguinary  scenes ; — the  hidden  anguish  which  has  so 
long  silently  preyed  upon  the  heart,  is  diverted  for  an 
hour  while  torture  is  inflicted  upon  another ;  and  the 
woe  of  the  soul,  which  might  not  express  itself  in 
words,  or  hardly  in  sighs,  seems  to  be  vented  in  the 
groans  of  a  victim. 

Such  transitions  of  strong  and  turbid  emotions  from 
one  channel  to  another  are  not  very  unusual.  Few 
sensitive  minds  can  be  at  a  loss  in  recalling  analogous 
instances  from  the  page  of  personal  history.  If  the 
torrent  of  feeling  is  choked  on  one  side,  it  swells  and 
bursts  a  passage  in  another :  and  strange  as  it  may 
seem — not  strange  perhaps  if  we  scrutinize  attentively 
the  structure  of  the  passions,  it  is  a  fact  that  the  gentle 
and  genial  affections  have  a  specific  tendency,  when 
cut  off*  from  their  natural  flow,  to  take  the  turn  of  ran- 
cour and  ferocity.  The  spirit  baffled  in  its  first  desires 
and  defeated,  not  subdued,   suddenly  meets  a  new 

saint  which  the  monastery  cherished,  it  made  twenty  wretches,  whose 
moral  condition  was  in  the  last  degree  pitiable  or  loathsome. 

Now  shall  we  leave  these  propositions  unsupported  by  proof?— or 
will  the  Romanist — the  pride  and  prop  of  whose  Church  is  monkery, 
challenge  us  to  make  good  our  allegations? 


excitement,  although  altogether  of  a  diflferent  order  ; — 
combines  with  the  novel  element,  and  rushes  on,  it 
knows  not  whither. 

Will  it  seem  paradoxical  to  affirm  that  some  of  the 
most  portentous  exhibitions  of  ungovernable  violence 
that  have  amazed  the  world,  or  have  been  signalized 
in  history,  have  been  nothing  but  the  out-bursting  of 
long  suppressed  passions  of  some  other  kind  than  those 
which  appear?  We  venture  to  say  that  certain 
extreme  cases  of  religious  ferocity  might  be  explained 
(were  we  in  possession  of  the  secret  history  of  the 
individuals)  on  this  principle ;  and  then  would  be 
cleared  up  the  mystery  of  the  union  of  virtue  and 
piety  (of  a  spurious  kind)  with  a  horrible  cruelty  of 
temper.* — Could  we  delve  ai  some  spots  of  the  earth's 
surface  far  down  toward  its  secret  caverns,  we  might 
come  upon  the  laboratories  of  nature,  where  chemical 
agents  in  constant  turmoil  have,  age  after  age,  con- 
vulsed the  abyss — yet  unfelt  above.  Yes,  perhaps 
low  beneath  some  of  the  most  tranquil  and  smiling 
landscapes,  where  no  such  terror  has  been  ever  seen 


♦Mr.  Butler  strenuously  denies  the  imputation  ordinarily  cast 
upon  Guzman  (Saint  Dominic),  of  instigating  and  personally  enacting 
the  barbarities  of  the  Crusade  against  the  Albigenses.  It  is  probable 
that  his  conduct  in  this  instance  was  in  harmony  with  that  of  the 
Church  generally,  and  especially  of  his  spiritual  progeny — the  Inqui- 
sitors, who,  abhorring  to  soil  their  own  fingers  with  blood,  delivered 
the  condemned  to  the  civil  power  to  discharge  ihe  last  "  offices  of 
Mercy."  The  point  in  question  may  seem  of  infinitely  small  moment. 
Nevertheless,  as  a  signal  and  unmatched  instance  of  the  sort,  the 
character  of  the  Founder  of  the  Dominican  order  is  worthy  of  the 
labour  that  might  be  needed  to  set  it  clear  from  the  misrepresentations 
of  all  kinds,  which  cover  it.  The  author  hopes  to  be  able,  in  a  future 
work,  to  give  the  result  of  an  examination  of  authorities  touching 
the  reputation  of  this  dread  personage.  We  find  modern  Romanist 
writers  far  more  discreet  and  cautious  on  points  of  this  kind  than 
were  their  predecessors  of  the  sixteenth  century.  Thus  while  the 
Author  of  the  Lives  of  the  Saints  takes  pains  to  keep  the  reputation 
of  St.  Dominic  clear  of  blood,  an  Italian  annalist,  speaking  of  the 
pontificate  of  Innocent  III.  plainly  says,  Nacque  allora  I'eresia  di 
Tolosa,che  fu  da  S.  Domenico  ammortata.— But  how  extinguished  ? 
not  until  fire  and  the  sword  had  converted  the  finest  countries  in 
£urope  into  a  wilderness. 


142 


FANATICISM 


or  surmised,  furious  tempests  of  fire  are  continually 
shakmg  the  infernal  vault.  But  in  a  moment,  by  the 
heavmg  of  the  cavern,  a  new  element  rushes  down 
and  egress  too  is  made :— heat  tenfbld  more  intense' 
than  before  is  suddenly  generated.— The  very  bowels 
of  the  world  swelter  and  are  molten  :_the  jagged  jaws 
of  the  pit  are  sundered  ;  torrents  of  fire  rush  up,  and 
are  flung  to  the  clouds^  and  kingdoms  j^re  covered  with 
dismay. — 

—We  grant  at  once  that  our  comparison  in  appear- 
ance goes  beyond  the  occasion,  and  is  disproportioned 
to  the  subject.— Let  it  then  be  condemned  as  inappro- 
priate.    Nevertheless  the  truth  remains  certain  that  the 
mischiefs  occasioned  by  even  the  most  dire  of  volcanic 
eruptions  have  been  trivial,  if  compared  with  the  sor- 
rows, and  pains,  and  devastations,  that  have,  in  more 
than  a  few  instances,  sprung  from  the  burning  cavern 
of  only  a  single  human  bosom.     What  is  the  descent 
ot  a  river  of  lava  through  vineyards  and  olive  groves, 
or  what  the  overthrow  of  hamlets  and  the  burying  of 
Villages  or  castles,  compared  with  the  torments  and 
imprisonments,  the  conflagrations,   the   famines,  the 
exterminating  wars,  and  the  ages  of  national  degreda- 
tion,  all  of  which  have  had  so  simple  and  narrow  an 
origin  as  the  fiery  malice  of  a  friar's  heart  ?     Better 
were  it,  incomparably  better  for  mankind,  that  a  new 
volcano  should  heave  itself  from  the  abyss,  and  spout 
sulphur  in  the  centre  of  every  province   of  every 
European  kingdom,  than  that  Dominicians  and  Fran- 
ciscans, papal  legates  and  Jesuits,  should  find  leave  to 
repeat  the  massacres  and  executions  which  so  often 
have  stained  the  soil  of  France,  and  Spain,  and  Portu- 
gal,   and    Italy,    and   Germany,   and   Holland,   and 
Jbngiand. 

There  is  yet  another,  and  a  very  different  order  of 
men  upon  whom  the  vow  of  celibacy  cannot  fail  to 
produce  the  most  pernicious  eflfects.  We  mean  those 
stern  natures  that  are,  in  a  sense,  pure  and  clean,  but 
not  so  much  by  poverty  of  temperament,  as  by  hard- 


OP   THE    BRAND. 


143 


ness  of  mental  structure.  They  are  not  cold  as  water 
but  cold  as  marble;  not  solid  as  ice,  but  solid  as  iron. 
They  shed  no  tears,  and  have  no  power  of  relenting, 
because  there  are  no  humours  or  lymph  at  all  in  their 
constitutions.  Every  nerve  is  a  chord,  stretched  till  it 
vibrates,  and  which  will  sooner  snap  than  relax.  There 
are  born  a  few  men  {men,  for  they  have  bones  and 
muscles — senses  and  bodily  organs)  and  especially 
do  such  make  their  appearance  under  the  wing  of 
gloomy  superstitions,  who  themselves  quite  exempt,  as 
well  from  animal  appeties  as  from  social  affections, 
and  unconscious  of  the  soft  alternations  of  hope  and 
fear,  grief  and  joy,  look  with  grim  contempt  upon  hu- 
manity ;— even  as  man  may  look  upon  the  most  igno- 
of  the  brutal  orders. 

The  state  of  celibacy,  which  costs  such  men  no 
struggle,  they  will  esteem  their  glory,  as  being  a  fit 
outward  sign  of  the  intrinsic  dignity  which  lifts  them 
above  their  fellows.  Celibacy  to  such  is  but  a  visible 
seal  of  spiritual  supremacy— a  scutcheon  of  nobility  in 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Conscious  of  immaculate  and 
unalterable  personal  sanctity  (if  continence  be  sanctity) 
and  conscious  of  a  sort  of  ecstatic  indiflference  under 
the  voluntary  pains  of  penance — floggings,  fastings, 
and  vigils,  how  can  they  doubt  themselves  to  have 
reached  the  utmost  summit  of  virtue  ? — Their  virtue, 
is  it  not  seraphic,  rather  than  human  ?  What  can 
sully  such  excellence  ?-r-§is  easily  slur  the  bright  sky 
of  noon,  as  contaminate -a  piety  so  celestial  !* 

♦  It  is  surely  more  than  a  mere  coincidence  that  the  very  age  in 
which  the  folly  of  conferring  celestial  titles  upon  illustrious  church- 
men reached  its  height,  was  the  era  also  wherein  the  execrable  in- 
tolerance of  the  papacy  burst  forth  with  the  greatest  fury.— While 
torrents  of  blood  were  llowing  in  the  east  and  the  west,  at  the  insti- 
gation of  spiritual  heroes,  the  interior  of  the  Church  blazed  with  the 
superhuman  virtues  of  angelical  doctors,  and  seraphic  doctors — 
and  so  forth.  Yes,  and  at  the  very  moment  that  the  duty  of  the 
civil  power  to  aid  the  Church  in  the  extermination  of  heretics  and 
infidels  was  loudly  preached,  the  fervours  of  the  saints  were  reaching 
fiuch  a  pitch  (if  we  are  to  credit  their  devoted  biographers)  as  often 
to  lift  them  while  in  prayer  many  feet  from  the  ground.     *'F.  Leo 


144 


FANATICISM 


OP   THE    BRAND. 


145 


Yes,  but  of  all  the  preparations  for  atrocious  crime, 
none  is  more  ominous  or  complete  than  a  presumption 
of  possessing  superhuman  virtue.  Sanctity  of  this 
heroic  and  immortal  order  may  dip  its  hands  in  blood 
and  fear  no  stain  !  Illusions  such  as  these,  egregious 
as  they  may  seem,  are  not  foreign  to  the  human  mind. 
The  holy  arrogance  of  the  soul,  so  long  as  it  can  be 
held  entire,  is  a  warrant  that  will  cover  all  extents  of 
guilt.  There  is  no  murder  in  murder,  no  falseness  in 
perjury,  no  sin  in  any  sin,  if  but  the  perpetrator  is  inflate 
with  the  persuasion  of  himself  being  a  demigod  fn 
goodness.  No  self-deception  so  extreme  can  be 
maintained  by  men  who  walk  along  with  others  upon 
the  vulgar  level  of  human  interests :  whoever  would 
be  mad  at  this  rate,  assuredly  must  not  be  citizen, 
neighbour,  husband,  or  father;  for  the  duties  and 
offices  of  these  relations  teach  even  the  most  preposte- 
rous minds  some  common  sense.  It  is  celibacy  and  the 
cell  that  skreen  the  infatuation,  and  that  foment  it.* 

the  secretary  of  St.  Francis  (of  Asfeisi)  and  his  confessor,  testified 
that  he  had  seen  him  in  prayer  raised  above  the  ground  so  higl),  that 
his  disciple  could  only  touch  his  feet,  which  he  held  and  watered  with 
his  tears  ;  and  that  sometimes  he  saw  him  raised  much  higher." 
Lives  of  the  Saints,  October  4.  It  was  in  one  of  these  elevations  that 
the  saint  received  those  far-famed  stiormas  of  which  his  order  have 
so  much  boasted — unless  indeed  we  listen  to  the  story  which  affirms 
that  St.  Francis  and  St  Dominic,  while  together  at  Rome,  fell  out, 
and  actually  proceeded  to  blows  ;  when  the  latter  seizing  a  spit,  in- 
flicted some  severe  wounds  upon  his  unarmed  friend.  This  story 
perhaps  should  be  regarded  as  an  allegory,  intended  to  prefigure  the 
not  animosities  that  afterwards  prevailed  between  the  ghostly  pro- 
geny of  the  two  Founders  It  is  remarkable  that,  besides  other 
"bones  of  contention,"  these  very  stigmas  became  the  subject  of  a 
fierce  warfare  between  the  rival  orders  ;  the  Dominicans  having  the 
audacity  to  claim  for  their  Founder  the  very  honour  which  the  Fran- 
ciscans had  long  thought  their  own  without  dispute. — But  we  have 
wandered  from  our  purpose,  and  return  to  it  to  remind  the  reader 
that,  at  the  very  time  when  the  miraculous  wound  in  the  (right)  side 
of  St.  Francis  was  oozing  gore  in  attestation  of  his  seraphic  piety, 
the  soil  of  Languedoc  was  soaking  in  the  blood  of  the  luckless  in- 
habitants— blood  shed  at  the  instigation,  or  under  the  eyes,  of  these 
same  superhuman  saints. 

*  There  are  exceptions.  Simon  de  iMontfort  was  bred  not  in  the 
cell  but  the  camp  ;  and  although,  as  Mr.  Butler  assures  us,  "  his  zeal 
and  piety  equalled  him  to  the  apostolic  men ;"  yet  had  he  acquired 
it  all  in  the  open  world. 


Surrounded  as  we  are  in  the  present  day,  happily, 
by  circumstances  altogether  of  another  sort,  nothing 
less  than  a  vigorous  and  continued  effort  of  the  ima- 
gination can  enable  us  to  follow  those  links  of  transition 
by  which,  so  often,  the  stern  ascetic,  whose  devout 
meditations  we  may  even  now  peruse  with  pleasure 
and  advantage,  has  passed  to  the  fervours  of  a  trucu- 
lent zeal.     These  links  are  fewer  than  at  first  we  may 
think. — Let  any  one  conceive  himself  to  have  laid 
down,  as  he  may  put  off  a  garment,  every  social  affec- 
tion, remote  and  intimate,  and  to  have  thrown  off  every 
sympathy  with  what  animates  the  open  world,  and  to 
be  mulct  at  once  of  manhood  and  humanity,  and  with 
a  sort  of  desperate  apathy  to  look  down  upon  the 
theatre  of  life.     Add  to  this  supposition  the  heats  of  a 
turgid  piety,  and  then  ask  whether  much  would  be 
wanting  to  open  the  w^ay  to  cruel  or  vindictive  desires. 

Or  let  anyone  entertain  another  supposition — as  for 
example,  that  being  arraigned  on  the  indistinct  ground 
of  some  political  offence,  in  relation  to  which  prejudice 
and  passion  have  much  scope,  he  stood  at  the  bar,  and 
saw  his  jury  to  consist  of  a  dozen  cowled  anchorets, 
just  summoned  from  their  dens  of  morose  meditation. 
Who  would  indulge  a  hope  of  receiving  justice  from 
such  a  band  ?  Aye,  would  not  a  man  shudder  were 
he  to  descry  only  one  such  being  among  the  twelve, 
and  must  he  not  believe  that  the  pertinacious  rancour 
of  that  one  would  effect  his  destruction? 

Shall  we  pass  from  the  light  and  air  of  an  English 

court,  to  some  pestilent  cavern  of  the  Holy  Oflfice  ? 

an  atmosphere  in  which  Justice  has  never  borne  to 
remain  even  an  hour,  and  in  which  Mercy  never 
spoke.*     The  reverend  assessors,  with  their  obsequi- 

♦  The  author  will  be  thought  to  have  forgotten  that  the  great 
Ximenes  de  Cisncros  presided  eleven  years  in  the  court  of  the  Inqui- 
sition. Did  then  neither  Justice  nor  Mercy  accompany  the  cardinal 
in  his  descents  to  the  vaults  ot  the  Holy  Ofiice?  Yes,  the  Justice 
and  the  Mercy  of  the  Romish  Church  went  with  him  there.  By 
what  rule  are  we  to  think  of  men— that  of  their  professions,  or  that 
of  their  deeds  ?     During  the  inquisitor-generalship  of  Ximenes,  fifty 

14 


i 


'! 


146 


FANATICISM 


OP    THE    BRAND. 


147 


ous  ministers — tools  in  hand,  are,  we  will  imagine, 
drawn  in  even  proportions  from  the  three  classes  just 
specified.  To  the  right  and  left  sit  those  of  the  first 
sort — the  lookers  on,  whose  vote  for  the  use  of  the  rack 
and  pully  has  often  had  a  motive  more  detestable  than 
even  the  most  horrid  malice,  and  who  hasten  the  con- 
sent of  the  court  to  a  fatal  sentence  that  they  may  save 
the  hour  of  some  adulterous  appointment.  Next  are 
those  of  our  second  class,  in  whose  bosoms  mingled 
passions,  and  alternate  irreconcilable  desires,  are  beat- 
ing like  the  waves  of  a  tempest-troubled  sea.  To  them 
is  not  this  very  hour  of  gloomy  service  the  season 
toward  which  tumultuous  emotions  have  long  been 
tending,  as  the  time  when  they  should  get  vent  ?  It  is 
then  that  the  grinding  torments  of  wounded  pride  or 
despair  are  to  relax  a  while ;  as  if  the  culprit  (Jew,  or 
Moor,  or  heretic)  who  is  to  groan  his  hour  upon  the 
wheel,  were  to  take  up  as  substitute  the  anguish  that 
grasps  the  heart  of  his  judge.  Nay,  we  do  not  carry 
imagination  too  far; — it  belongs  to  human  nature  thus 
to  feel ; — the  sight,  and  even  the  infliction  of  extreme 
suffering,  loosens  for  a  moment  the  gripe  of  internal 
distress.  The  vulture  of  remorse  or  revenge  forgets 
his  part  to  glare  upon  other  agonies,  and  rests  appeased 
in  listening  to  another's  sighs. 

thousand  Moors,  under  terror  of  death  and  torture,  received  the  grace 
of  baptism  ;  while  more  than  an  equal  number  of  the  refractory  were 
condemned.  Of  these,  two  thousand  five  hundred  and  thirty-six  he 
burned  ahve.  Or,  supposing  the  whole  number  to  have  been  evenly 
distributed  through  the  period  of  his  presidentship,  it  will  appear 
that  between  Sunday  and  Sunday  of  every  w  eek  of  those  years  he 
committed  (to  reject  the  odd  two  hundred  and  forty-eight)  four  men 
or  vromen  to  the  flames  !  Let  it  be  affirmed  that,  in  the  "  New  Re- 
gulations," some  regard  was  paid  to  the  rights  of  the  accused  ;  yet 
■was  the  entire  process  a  horrible  snare,  so  contrived  as  to  render 
the  escape  of  the  victim  almost  impossible.  Besides,  is  not  reason 
insulted  by  talking  at  all  of  the  justice  of  the  details  of  a  judicial 
process,  the  object  of  which  was  to  maintain  an  execrable  usurpa- 
tion? We  may  mourn  indeed  that  a  mind  of  fine  quality  should  be 
found  in  company  with  a  Torquemada  ;  but  we  must  not  so  outrage 
the  great  principles  of  virtue  as,  on  account  of  talents  or  accomplish- 
ments, to  skreen  one  murderer  of  thousands,  while  we  consign  ano- 
ther to  infamy. 


But  what  say  we  of  the  President  of  the  Court  ?  to 
him  we  must  allow  the  praise  of  loftier  motives.  Not 
since  sunset  of  yesterday  has  he  tasted  bread,  or  mois- 
tened his  shrivelled  bloodless  lip.  Watching  and  prayer, 
though  they  have  not  spent  him,  have  wrought  up  the 
chronic  fever  of  his  pulse  to  a  tremulous  height,  that 
almost  reaches  delirium.  Yet  settled  and  calm  is  his 
front,  and  his  eye  glazed ; — the  spirit,  how  is  it  ab- 
stracted from  mortal  connexions !  human  sympathies 
are  as  remote  from  his  soul  as  are  the  warmth,  the 
fruits,  and  the  pleasures  of  a  sultry  Syrian  glen,  from 
the  glaciers  and-  snow  that  encrust  the  summits  of 
Lebanon.  The  communion  of  the  soul  is  with  the 
things  of  another  world. — Alas  !  not  the  world  of  love 
and  joy,  but  the  giilph  of  misery  !  In  every  sense, 
immediate  and  figurative,  this  terrible  personage  is  son 
and  minister  of  hell.  And  now  he  comes  from  his  cell 
to  his  chair  that  he  may  again  realize,  in  a  palpable, 
visible,  and  audible  form,  those  conceptions  of  pain, 
horror,  revenge,  perdition,  upon  which  the  monoton- 
ous meditations  of  his  cloister  are  employed.  The 
dark  ideas  that  haunt  his  imagination,  night  and  day, 
stoop  the  wing  to  this  hour,  in  which  the  implements 
of  anguish  are  to  bring  forth  shrieks  and  groans,  such 
as  shall  give  new  vividness  to  the  fading  impressions  of 
misery  which  he  delights  to  revolve. 

Idle,  ah  how  idle  is  the  hope  entertained  by  the 
cold  and  shuddering  culprit,  when,  as  brought  up  from 
his  dungeon,  he  rapidly  peruses  each  reverend  visage 
in  expectation  of  descrying  on  one,  or  upon  another, 
the  traces  of  reason  and  mercy  ! — Alas,  it  is  for  this 
very  purpose,  and  no  other,  it  is  to  sigh,  to  shrink,  to 
writhe,  to  shriek,  thnt  he  has  been  dragged  to  the  dim 
chamber  of  the  Holy  Oflice : — he  stands  where  he 
stands,  because  the  men  who  sit  to  mock  him  with 
forms  of  law,  have  need  (each  in  a  special  manner)  of 
the  specL'icle  of  his  misery. 

Does  the  history  of  popish  tyranny  bear  out,  or  does 
it  refute  our  descriptions? — let  them  stand  or  be  con- 


ill 


s 


H 


148 


FANATICISM 


OF   THE    BRAND. 


149 


demned  by  an  appeal  to  records  that  are  open  to  every 
eye.  ^ 

We  have  not  however  quite  done  with  the  heavy 
theme  of  that  preparation  which  the  Romish  Church 
has  made  for  training  her  ministers  to  become  the 
scourges  of  humanity :  and  let  it  be  remembered,  as 
we  proceed,  that  a  just  horror  of  the  ^stem  should 
generate  so  much  the  more  pity  for  the  agents,  even 
with  all  their  loathsome  vices  and  cruelties,  who,  a<re 
after  age,  have  undergone  its  influence.  The  doctrine 
and  the  Institute  we  execrate :— for  the  men  we 
mourn. 

It  might  well  seem  as  if  circumstances  so  unfavour- 
able to  virtue  and  goodness  as  those  we  have  already 
mentioned  could  hardly  admit   aggravation.     But  in 
fact  they  have  a  climax.     The  practice  of  auricular 
confession  would  entail  a  thousand  evils  and  dangers 
upon  the  parties  concerned,  even  apart  from  the  un- 
natural condition  to  which  one  of  these  parties  has  been 
reduced.     But  what  must  we  think  of  auricular  con- 
fession when  he  into  whose  prurient  ear  it  is  poured 
lives  under  the  irritation  of  a  vow  of  virginity !     The 
wretched  being  within  whose  bosom  distorted  passions 
are  rankling,  is  called  daily  to  listen  to  tales  of  licenti- 
ousness from  his  own  sex  (if  indeed  the  ambiguous 
personage  has  a  sex)  and  infinitely  worse— to  the  re- 
luctant or  shameless  disclosures  of  the  other.     Let  the 
female  penitent  be  of  what  class   she  may,  simple 
hearted  or  lax,  the  repetition  of  her  dishonour,  while  it 
must  seal  the  moral  mischief  of  the  oflence  upon  her- 
self, even  if  the  auditor  were  a  woman,  enhances  it 
beyond    measure   when   the   instincts  of  nature  are 
violated  by  making  the  recital  to  a  man.  But  shall  we 
imagine  the  effect  upon  the  sentiments  of  him  who 
receives  the  confession?     Each  sinner  makes  but  one 
confession  in  a  given  time,  but  each  priest  in  the  same 
space  listens  to  a  hundred  !     What  then,  after  a  while, 
must  that  receptacle  become  into  which  the  continual 


droppings  of  all  the  debauchery  of  a  parish  are  falling, 
and  through  which  the  copious  abomination  filters?* 

♦  Neither  the  oath  of  secrecy,  nor  the  penalty  which  sanctions  it, 
has  prevented  the  disclosure  of  more  than  enough  of  the  abomina- 
tions of  the  Confessional.  The  discreet  and  welUinformed  Romanist 
will  not  challenge  evidence  in  justification  of  the  strong  language 
which  the  Author  uses  on  the  subject:  the  Romanist,  we  presume, 
does  not  need  to  have  certain  notorious  books  named  to  him  in  which, 
with  astounding  insensibility,  theConfessarius  has  divulged  the  mys- 
teries of  his  art.  Of  one  of  these  infamous  books,  a  respectable  Romish 
writer  says,  Ce  prodigieux  volume  contient  un  exannn  tres  subtil  de 
toutes  les  impurities  imaginables  ;  c'ost  un  CLOACIUE,  qui  renferme 
des  choses  horribles,  el  qu'on  n'oseroit  dire.  On  I'appelle  avec 
justice  un  ouvrage  honteux,  compose  avec  un  curiosity  enorme, 
horrible  et  odieux  par  la  diligence  et  I'exactitude  qui  y  regne,  a  pene- 
trer  dans  des  choses  monstreuses,  sales,  infames,  et  diaboliques.  II 
est  impossible  de  comprendrc  comment  un  Autheur  pent  avoir  re- 
nonce  k  la  pudeur  jusqu'a  pouvoir  escrire  un  tel  livre,  puis  qu'au- 
jourd'huy  un  hornme  qui  n'a  pas  despouill^  toute  honte  patit  effroy- 
ablement  en  \»i  lisatit.  And  again  speaking  of  the  same  writer,  .... 
prodigioso  volumine,  velut  Cloaca  ingeiiti,  fanda  infandaque  con- 
volvit. 

The  Church  rigorously  enjoins  the  faithful,  as  they  would  escape 
perdition,  to  make  the  most  intimate  and  circumstantial  disclosures  of 
their  guilt,  without  which,  it  says,  the  ''  sacred  physician  cannot  be 
qualified  to  apply  the  proper  remedy."     And  we  are  not  left  in  doubt 
as  to  the  result.  Constat  enini,  says  the  Council  of  Trent,  saccrdotes 
judicium  hoc,  incognita  causa,  exercere  non  potuisse,  nee  oequitatem 
quidem,  illos  in  pcenis  injungendis  servare  potuisse,  si  in  genere  dum- 
taxat,  et  non  potiiis  m  specie,  ac  sigillatim,  sua  ipsi  peccata  decla- 
rassenf.  .....  Without  the  most  unreserved  confession,  say  these 

doctors,  there  is  no  hope  of  remission — qui  secus  faciunt  et  scienter 
aliqua  retinent,  nihil  divine  bonitati  per  sacerdotem  rcmittendum 
proponunt.  Nor  was  it  enough  to  disclose  the  mere  facts  of  guilt ; 
the  Church  must  know  all  circumstantials ;  Colligitur  pra^terea,  etiam 
eas  circumstantias  in  confessione  explicandas  esse,  quce  speciem 
piccali  mutant.— See  the  fifth  chapter  of  the  decrees  of  the  Council  of 
Trent. 

The  sacrament  of  confession,  when  it  came  to  be  thus  explained 
and  enjoined,  naturally  drew  in  upon  the  Church,  in  tenfold  quantity, 
the  impurities  of  licentious  times.  Heretofore,  those  chiefly  had 
come  to  the  priest  who  possessed  some  conscience  and  virtue,  and 
whose  disclosures  were  of  a  less  flaj^rant  sort.  But  afterwards,  that 
is  to  say  from  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries,  the  custom  of 
confession  became  universal ;  and  the  most  abandoned  of  men  (and 
women)  retained  superstition  enough  to  desire  absolution  and  to  seek 
it  in  this  manner  from  the  priest.— Accordingly  we  find  from  this 
tune  abundant  indications  of  the  bad  proficiency  which  the  clergy 
made  in  the  knowledge  ef  every  horrible  enormity.  On  this  point 
It  might  be  enough  to  refer  to  the  writings  of  Albert,  bishop  of 

14* 


m 


ti 


150 


FANATICISM 


OF  THE   BRAND. 


151 


It  is  hard  to  suppose  that  the  Romish  Church,  in 
constituting  her  hierarchy,  had  wittingly  kept  in  view 

Ratisbon— if  a  book  wfeich  bears  his  name  has  not  unjustly  been 
attributed  to  him.  But  even  long  before  the  time  when  the  Sewers  of 
the  Church  were  thus  deepened  and  widened,  it  is  clear  from  abundant 
evidence  that  the  practice  of  receiving  private  confessions  had  had 
great  influence  in  depraving,  both  the  secular  and  regular  clergy,  and 
in  spreading  on  all  sides  a  shameless  and  boundless  licentiousness. 
It  would  be  very  easy,  could  it  be  done  without  offending  the  just 
rules  of  propriety,  to  put  this  matter  beyond  dispute.  Little  more 
than  the  reputation  and  the  conceit  of  sanctity  could  be  left  to  men 
who,  being  themselves  bound  to  single  life  (we  must  not  call  it 
chastity)  were  able  to  write  what  some  noted  fathers  of  the  Church 
have  written  on  offensive  subjects.  This  sort  of  learning  they 
frankly  acknowledged  themselves  to  have  acquired  at  first  or  second 
hand Jrom  penitents ^^  7rp6<;   if^i  ri<i   rJy  Meo-ifjL^iv   Ka) 

xo?,  a7re(p&eylxTo nor  is  this  a  solitary  instance  in  the 

same  Father  (as  well  unnamed).  The  replies  given  by  Basil  to  his 
monks  on  certain  points  of  discretion,  sufficiently  attest  the  evils  in- 
volved in  the  practice,  even  in  its  infant  state;  who,  by  the  way, 
goes  ail  the  length  of  the  Council  of  Trent  in  demanding  (from  the 
monks  at  least)  a  discovery  of  even  "  the  lightest  movements  of  the 
soul,"  and  of  "  every  secret  of  the  heart ;"  and  by  means  of  an  apt 
illustration  persuades  them  to  a  throwing  forth  from  the  inner  man, 
whatever  is  noxious.  Some  of  the  interrogations  addressed  to  Basil, 
and  relating  to  confession,  are  highly  significant ;  but  they  must  be 
remitted  to  a  more  fit  occasion. 

How  far,  in  the  actual  practice  of  the  Romish  Church,  regard  was 
paid  to  the  temperament  and  character  of  the  man,  in  appointing  the 
confessarius,  it  is  not  easy  to  learn.  But  great  care  has  been  taken 
to  prevent  any  but  those  duly  appointed,  from  receiving  confessions; 
and  a  cure  also  to  prevent  promiscuous  confession.  A  priest  leaving 
his  care,  or  disabled  by  sickness  from  the  discharges  of  his  duties, 
named  a  substitute,  to  whom  alone  his  penitents  might  unburden 
their  consciences.  Among  the  many  instances  that  might  be  ad- 
duced m  illustration  of  the  rule,  a  somewhat  curious  one  occurs  in 
the  minutes  of  the  trial  of  the  luckless  Joan  of  Arc— Inlerroguee 
si  elle  se  confessoit  tous  les  ans,  dit  qu'ouy,  a  son  propre  cur^,  et  s'il 
estoit  empesche  elle  se  confessoit  a  un  autre  prebstre,  par  le  conge 
dudict  cure;  nevertheless,  and  althoush  the  heroine  could  prove 
qu'elle  recevoit  le  corps  de  nostre  Seigneur  tous  les  ans  a  Pasques, 
she  was,  by  her  ferocious  and  hypocritical  judges,  condamnee  a  cstre 
arse  et  bruslee,  not  for  having  fought  in  the  cause  of  her  country, 
but— comme  heretique.— L'iiwfoire  et  Croniqiie  de  J^ormandie. 

We  return  for  a  moment  to  the  influence  of  auricular  confesssion 
upon  the  Priest,  and  conclude  this  note  in  the  words  of  Bayle. 
II  arrive  a  ces  Critiques  (upon  Catullus  and  Martial)  ce  qui  arrive 
aux  Medecins  et  aux  Chirurgiens,  qui  a  force  de  manier  des  ulceres. 


the  purpose  of  rendering  her  clergy  the  fit  instru- 
ments of  whatever  atrocity  her  occasions  might  demand 
them  to  perpetrate  ;  and  so  had  brought  to  bear  upon 
their  hearts  every  possible  power  of  corruption.  Not 
content  with  cashiering  them  of  all  sanatory  domestic 
influences,  she  has  by  the  practice  of  confession,  made 
the  full  stream  of  human  crime  and  corruption  to 
pass — foul  and  infectious,  through  their  bosoms  !  Hav- 
ing to  construct  at  discretion  the  polity  of  the  nations, 
the  Romish  architects  have  so  planned  it,  as  that  the 
sacerdotal  order  should  constitute  the  Cloacce  of  the 
social  edifice ;  and  thus  have  secured  for  Rome  the 
honour  of  being,  through  these  channels,  the  great 
Stercorary  of  the  world  ;  How  fitly  in  the  language 
of  prophetic  vision  is  the  apostate  church  designated— 
sitting  as  she  does  at  the  centre  of  the  common  drain- 
age of  Europe — as  the  Mother  of  abominations,  and 
as  holding  forth  in  shameless  arrogance,  the  cup  of  the 
filthiness  of  her  fornications  ! 

The  Church  of  Rome  is  without  doubt  entitled  to 
the  pre-eminence  we  have  given  her  as  the  Nurse  of 
sanguinary  fanaticism. — Her  doctrine  begets  cruelly  ; 
— he-;*  polity  demands  it ; — and  her  clerical  institute 
trains  her  ministers  to  the  service  she  has  need  of. 
And  that  which  the  theory  of  this  superstition  would 
lead  us  to  expect,  history  declares  to  have  had  actual 
existence.  There  is  no  other  volume  of  human  aftairs 
that  can  for  the  abundance  of  execrable  acts,  come 
into  comparison  with  the  story  of  the  papal  tyranny. 
— If  the  Theory  only  of  this  system  should  go  down 
to  posterity,  and  its  History  be  lost,  no  credit  would 
be  given  to  the  affirmation  that  a  scheme  so  unnatural 
had  ever  found  a  place  in  the  world ;  much  less  that 

et  de  se  trouver  exposez  a  de  mauvaises  odeurs,  so  font  une  habitude 
de  n'en  etre  point  incommodez.  Dieu  veuille  que  les  Confesseurs 
et  les  Casuistes,  dont  les  oreilles  sont  1'Egout  de  toutes  les  im- 
mondices  de  la  vie  humaine,  se  pu.'^sent  vanter  d'un  tel  endur- 
cissement.  II  n'y  en  a  qiie  trop  sans  doute  oui  n'y  parviennent 
jamais,  et  dont  la  vertu  fait  naufrage  a  I'ouie  des  dcreglemens  de 
leurs  penitents. 


; 


152 


FANATICISM 


It  had  maintained  its  influence  over  civilized  nations 
during  a  longer  course  of  ages  than  could  be  boasted 
by  the  firmest  and  most  extensive  secular  monarchies. 
Or  if  the  History  of  the  Romish  Church  were  to 
descend  to  distant  times,  and  the  theory  of  the  system 
be  forgotten,  then  must  it  certainly  be  thought  that, 
dunng  the  thousand  years,  or  more,  of  its  unbroken 
power,  a  licence  extraordinary  had  been  granted  to 
infernal  malignants  to  usurp  human  forms,  and  to  in- 
vade  earth  with  the  practices  of  hell ;  or  that  the  world 
from  the  seventh  to  the  seventeenth  century,  had  suf- 
fered a  dark  Millennium  of  diabolic  possession. 

But  while  we  have  outspread  before  us,  at  once  the 
theory  and  the  history  of  Popery,  we  are  able,  by 
usmg  the  latter  as  a  comment  upon  the  former,  and 
the  former  as  a  key  to  to  the  latter,  to  reconcile  those 
notions  of  human  nature  and  Divine  Providence  which 
w-e  must  devoutly  cling  to,  with  the  hideous  facts  that 
adniit,  alas,  of  no  dispute.  The  lesson  we  gain  from 
such  a  digest  is  this—and  one  of  more  moment  can 
hardly  be  found— That  human  nature,  plastic  as  it  is, 
and  susceptible  of  all  influences,  mav,  by  long  expo- 
sure  to  the  operation  of  a  pernicious  code,  an  immoral 
institute,  and  a  despotic  polity,  become  atrocious  in 
a  degree  that  confounds  every  distinction,  between 
human  and  diabolical  wickedness.  If  then,  in  any 
measure,  we  have  gained  advantage  over  such  a 
system,  and  are  actually  driving  it  further  and  further 
towards  the  skirts  of  civilization,  with  how  keen  a 
jealousy  should  we  look-not  so  much  to  the  expiring 
remams  of  that  same  system,  near  us,  as  to  those  deep 
principles  of  ghostly  usurpation  which  are  very  far 
from  having  been  utterly  crushed  and  destroyed,  even 
in  the  freest  of  the  European  communities. 

Yet  m  the  heat  of  our  indignation,  let  justice  be 
done  to  Rome.  This  justice  makes  a  demand  upon 
us  under  several  heads.  The  topics  are  trite,  but 
must  not  here  be  omitted. 

I.  The  specific  guilt  of  the  Papal  tyranny  is  that 


OF   THE    BRAND. 


153 


of  having  converted  to  the  purposes  of  its  spiritual 
usurpation  those  congenial  corruptions  of  faith  and 
practice  which  it  found  in  readiness,  and  which  it 
received  from  a  higher  age,  recommended  by  the 
unanimous  approval  of  Saints,  Doctors,  and  illustrious 
Writers*  But  neither  popes,  nor  cardinals,  nor  coun- 
cils, can  fairly  be  accused,  except  in  some  single  and 
less  important  instances,  of  originating  (as  if  with 
malign  ingenuity)  the  elements  of  the  despotism 
which  they  administered.  This  main  point  of  Church 
history  has  been  too  much  obscured  by  Protestant 
controversialists, 

II.  At  once  as  a  relief  to  the  sad  impression  of 
human  nature  made  by  the  history  of  popery,  and  as 
a  tribute  too  to  the  mighty  efficacy  of  Christianity, 
even  when  most  corrupted,  we  have  to  keep  in  view 
the  actual  amount  of  virtue,  humanity,  piety — and  the 
learning,  the  intelligence,  and  the  bright  excellence  of 
every  name,  which  has  existed  in  all  ages  under  the 
Papacy.  Let  us  call  this  amount  large — and  indeed 
it  is  so : — assuredly  the  proofs  of  its  extent  would  not 
soon  be  exhausted.  We  denounce  the  Romish  doc- 
trine and  polity,  not  on  the  charge  that  it  excludes  all 
religion  and  all  virtue  ;  or  that  it  renders  the  whole  of 
its  hierarchical  body  as  corrupt  as  it  renders  many ; 
but  only  on  this  ground,  that  it  generates  a  species  of 
ferocity  more  malign  than  any  other  system  has  pro- 
duced, and  that  it  never  fails  to  have  at  its  service 
a  formidable  number  of  inhuman  beings,  who  want 
nothing  but  occasion  to  cover  kingdoms  with  sorrow 
and  blood. 

III.  Yet  the  main  article  of  the  measure  of  equity 
which  should  be  rendered  to  the  Church  of  Rome  is  this 
— That  even  if  unrivalled  in  cruelty,  she  is  not  alone 
in  it ;  but  has  been,  if  not  eclipsed,  worthily  followed 
by  each  offset  Church,  and  by  almost  every  Dissident 
community.* — Those  that  have  gone  oflf  to  the  remo- 

*  It  would  be  an  injustice  not  to  eay  that  the  duakers  are  clear  of 
this  guilt,  and  to  their  many  peculiar  merits,  add  the  praise  of  beingi 
not  only  as  wise  as  serpents — but  harmless  as  doves. 


154 


FANATICISM. 


test  point  of  doctrine  and  polity— whose  rule  of  belief 
and  duty  has  been— in  every  article,  the  antithesis  of 
Rome,  and  those  too  that  have  tilled  the  interval  at 
every  distance  from  the  extremes;— all  have  wrought, 
in  their  day,  the  engine  of  spiritual  oppression ;  all 
have  shewn  themselves,  in  the  hour  of  their  pride, 
intolerant  and  merciless;  and  all  should  look  with 
shame  to  their  several  histories :— -while  the  Church 
of  Rome  looks,  or  might  look  to  hers,  with  horror. 
^  If  nations,  churches,  and  communities,  as  well  as 
mdividuals,  have  a  future  retribution  to  fear  ;  then  has 
almost  every  existing  religious  body  a  just  cause  of 
alarm.  If  a  day  is  to  come  when  the  Righteous  Ad- 
mmistrator  of  human  affairs,  and  Head  of  the  Church, 
IS  to  make  manifest  his  detestation  of  ecclesiastical 
bloodshed  and  torments,  shall  the  Church  of  Rome 
stand  alone  at  the  bar,  or  have  no  companions  in 
punishment?  Ought  we  not  to  think  more  worthily 
of  the  Justice  of  Heaven  than  to  suppose  it  ? 

Leaving  so  high  a  theme,  let  the  general  inference 
be  fully  and  clearly  drawn— That  gloomv  doctrines 
and  pernicious  schemes  of  polity  are  therefore  to  be 
execrated,  because,  even  without  them,  or  where 
every  influence  is  the  most  favourable,  human  nature 
scarcely  avoids  abusing  the  profound  excitements  of 
religion  as  the  incentives  or  the  pretexts  of  its  ma- 
hgnant  passions. 


SECTION  VII. 


FANATICISM    OF   THE    BANNER. 


In  escaping  from  the  Consistory  to  the  Carnp,  we  seem 
to  breath  again.  Without  staying  to  inquire  whether 
the  greater  sum  of  positive  evil  has  been  inflicted  upon 
mankind  by  the  fanatical  priest  or  the  fanatical  soldier, 
it  is  certain  that  the  sentiments  with  which  we  con- 
template the  one  course  of  action  are  vastly  less  oppres- 
sive than  those  excited  by  the  other. 

Let  but  the  energies  of  men  be  spent  upon  a  broad 
field  and  under  the  open  sky ;  and  let  them  but  have 
to  do  with  interests  not  of  one  kind  only,  but  of  many ; 
and  let  but  their  motives  of  action  embrace  the  principal 
impulses  of  our  nature,  and  especially,  let  those  who 
run  such  a  course  freely  expose  themselves  to  the  per- 
ils and  sufferings  of  the  enterprise,  and  then  it  will 
always  happen  that  admirable  talents  and  fine  quali- 
ties find  play; — talents  and  qualities  such  as  are 
neither  seen  nor  thought  of  within  the  shades  of  sacred 
seclusions,  or  in  ecclesiastical  halls. 

None  but  minds  imbued  with  the  darkest  fanaticism 
can  feel  any  complacent  sympathy  with  the  character 
and  deeds  of  sacerdotal  despots ;  on  the  other  hand 
there  are  few  minds  so  frigid,  or  so  pure,  as  not  to  kin- 
dle in  following  the  story  of  exploits  which  (criminal 
as  they  may  have  been  in  their  object  and  issue)  yet 
sparkle  with  rare  instances  of  valour,  and  are  graced 


156 


FANATICISM 


with  the  choicest  examples  of  fortitude,  mercy,  and 
magnanimous  contempt  of  selfish  interests. 

And  besides  ;  there  is  this  capital  disparity  between 
the  fanaticism  of  the  Churchman  and  that  of  the  Sol- 
dier— that  while  the  oppressions  and  cruelties  practised 
by  the  former  are  in  all  cases,  and  under  every  imag- 
inable condition — an  atrocity,  destitute  of  palliation 
or  excuse,  the  deeds  of  the  other  have  often  been 
instigated  by  motives  which  go  far  to  soften  our  disap- 
proval. In  truth  there  are  certain  instances  of  this 
class  of  so  mixed  and  ambiguous  a  kind,  that  we  must 
shrink  if  called  upon  to  say  decisively  whether  the 
actors  should  be  commended  or  condemned.  It  is 
easy  and  trite  to  affirm  that  aggressive  and  ambitious 
warfare  is  always  immoral ; — and  how  flagrant  is  the 
guilt  of  aggressive  war,  waged  under  sacred  banners, 
or  at  the  alleged  bidding  of  Religion  !  But  often  the 
question  of  national  existence  has  been  inseparably 
connected  with  the  question  of  faith  ;  and  the  alter- 
native of  a  people  has  been  to  crouch  and  to  perish ; 
or  to  defend  by  the  sword  at  once  their  Homes  and 
Altars.  He  must  be  a  stern  moralist  indeed  who,  in 
such  cases  would  without  reluctance  pronounce  a  ver- 
dict which  must  make  the  oppressor  exult,  and  the 
oppressed  despond. 

Compared  with  either  of  the  two  forms  of  fanaticism 
described  in  the  preceding  sections,  that  now  to  be 
considered  is  remarkable  on  account  of  its  diversified 
combinations  with  other  sentiments.  Patriotism  and  na- 
tional pride,  calculations  of  policy,  the  motives  of  trade, 
the  desire  of  plunder,  and  the  impulse  of  personal  pas- 
sions— the  resentments  or  the  ambition  of  Chiefs,  have 
all  come  in  to  mingle  themselves  with  that  more  pro- 
found excitement  which  gave  the  first  impulse  to  wars 
on  account  of  religion.  On  the  ground  we  have  hith- 
erto traversed,  every  object  almost  has  shewn  the 
darkest  colours,  and  has  repelled  the  eye  by  a  sombre 
and  horrid  uniformity — we  have  been  making  way 
through  a  valley  of  grim  shadows — or  a  region  illu- 
mined only  by  the  fires  which  cruelty  has  lit  up : — 


OP    THE    BANNER.  157 

* 

Spelunca  alta  fuit,  vastoque  immanis  hiatu, 
Scrupea,  tuta  lacu  nigro  nemorumque  tenebris  ; 
Q,uam  super  baud  ullae  poterant  impune  volantea 
Tendere  iter  pennis. — 

Veslibulum  ante  ipsum  primisque  in  faucibus  Orci, 
Luctus  et  ultrices  posuerc  cubilia  Curas ; 
Pallentesque  habitant  Morbi,  tristisque  Senectus, 
Et  Metus,  et  nialesuada  Fames,  et  turpis  Egestas, 
Terribiles  visu  formae;  Leturnqiie  Labosque  j 
Turn  consanguineus  Leti  Sopor,  et  mala  mentis 
Gaudia — 

But  from  these  regions  of  woe  we  are  to  emerge  ; 
and  the  prospect  at  once  brightens  with  the  pomp  and 
movement  of  great  enterprises.  Empires  are  mustered 
on  the  ground,  and  the  many  nations  of  a  continent,  in 
the  gaiety  of  their  various  attire,  and  with  banners 
spread  to  the  winds,  are  pouring  on  from  side  to  side 
of  the  field.  Or  in  other  quarters,  if  clouds  hang  over 
the  scene  of  action,  yet  there  the  constancy  of  human 
nature  is  shewing  itself  in  deeds  such  as  no  other  fields 
of  war  can  boast. 

If  then  hitherto  the  danger  has  been  lest  we  should 
admit  feelings  of  disgust  or  of  resentment  toward  our 
fellows,  such  as  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel  does  not  allow ; 
— the  danger  now  is,  lest  a  complacency  should  be 
awakened  which  the  inflexible  maxims  of  its  morality 
cannot  but  condemn. 

The  Romish  Superstition  has  aflTorded  the  most  sig- 
nal instance  which  the  page  of  history  at  all  presents, 
of  the  fanaticism  of  cruelty.  For  an  example  equally 
signal  of  the  fanaticism  of  martial  zeal  and  religious 
ambition,  we  must  turn  to  the  first  propagation  of  the 
doctrine  of  Mohammed. 

To  profess,  or  to  feel  a  jealousy  toward  the  Moham- 
medan faith,  as  if  its  rival  merits  might  perhaps  bring 
into  question  those  of  Christianity,  would  be  a  ridicu- 
lous aflfectation  ;  or  would  indicate  an  extreme  imbe- 
cility of  judgment.  The  time  surely  is  gone  by  in 
which  it  might  be  proper  anxiously  to  demonstrate 
that  the  Bible  exhibits  every  quality  fitting  a  revelation 
from  God — the  Koran  none  ; — or  none  after  deducting 

15 


I 


158 


TANATICISM 


I 


the  materials  that  its  author  stole  from  the  Prophets 
and  the  Apostles.  The  balance  of  Truth  is  in  no  jeop- 
ardy in  this  instance  ;  and  therefore  without  sohcitude 
we  may  do  full  justice  as  well  to  the  founder  as  to  the 
first  propagators  of  the  religion  of  the  eastern  world. 

In  fairness,  it  should  never  be  attempted  to  bring 
Mohammed  into  comparison  with  Him  who  came, 
"  not  to  destroy  men's  lives,  but  to  save."  Nothing 
but  a  summary  condemnation  of  the  military  zealot 
and  his  Caliphs  could  be  the  issue  of  such  a  contrast ; 
nor  does  it  afford  any  needed  advantage  to  Christi- 
anity. This  contrast  therefore  being  put  out  of  view, 
many  circumstances  demand  to  be  considered  that 
should  mitigate  at  least  the  feelings  with  which  we 
are  accustomed  to  regard  the  rise  and  spread  of  Islam. 

Those  tides  of  the  northern  nations  which  at  length 
swept  away  the  Roman  greatness,  might  be  spoken  of 
as  mere  evolutions  of  the  physical  energies  of  the 
great  social  system  ;  or  as  acts  in  the  natural  history 
of  man,  and  acts  too,  the  recurrence  of  which  at 
intervals  longer  or  shorter,  may  be  looked  for,  unless 
prevented  by  opposing  causes  of  another  order.  Shall 
it  be  deemed  utterly  incredible  that  the  very  same 
regions  which  heretofore  have  poured  their  ruinous 
torrents  over  southern  Europe  and  Asia,  may  again 
do  so  ?  Must  it  not  be  admitted  as  more  than  barely 
possible,  that  the  decay  of  the  commercial  and  military 
greatness  of  England  and  France — the  only  European 
nations  that  now  efficiently  sustain  the  civilization  of 
the  world,  w^ould,  were  it  to  take  place,  quickly  be 
followed  by  a  Scythian  inundation,  such  as  would 
leave  (in  this  hemisphere  at  least)  hardly  a  vestige  of 
intelligence — and  none  of  liberty  ? 

Now  certainly  in  this  sense  it  must  not  be  affirmed 
that  the  Saracenic  conquests  were  only  natural  expan- 
sions of  a  superabundant  power;  for  an  eruption  from 
the  same  quarter  has  happened  but  once  in  the  history 
of  the  world ;  nor  does  it  appear  that  it  would  have 
happened    at   all   apart    from   the   religious   impulse 


OP   THE   BANNER. 


159 


whence  actually  it  sprang.  Had  not  the  Merchant  of 
Mecca  penetrated  the  seventh  heaven,  and  brought 
down  thence  a  spark  which  set  the  ambition  of  Arabian 
bosoms  in  a  blaze,  the  very  name  of  Saracen — with 
all  the  splendours  that  surround  it,  had  hardly  found  a 
place  on  the  page  of  history.  Without  Mohammed 
the  Bedoween  horsemen  liad  probably  continued,  age 
after  age,  to  sweep  their  native  deserts — a  terror  only 
to  traders  and  pilgrims. 

This  being  admitted,  and  while  it  is  fully  granted 
that  the  motive  generated  by  the  new  religion  was  the 
proper  incentive  of  Mohammedan  warfare — the  sup- 
port of  its  fortitude,  the  spring  of  its  courage,  and  the 
reason  of  its  success;  it  is  nevertheless  true  that  a 
race  so  prince-like  and  so  bold  as  that  which  occupied 
the  Arabian  wilderness,  when  once  put  in  movement, 
and  made  to  feel  its  actual  and  its  relative  strength, 
would  necessarily  conquer  as  it  did  conquer,  and 
spread  itself  abroad  where  nothing  existed  that  could 
match  its  force.  The  countries  to  the  north,  to  the 
east,  and  to  the  west,  lay  as  a  rich  inheritance  of 
which  the  actual  possessors  had  lost  their  title  by 
extreme  degeneracy,  and  which  seemed  to  ask  to  be 
seized  upon  by  men  worthy  to  enjoy  it.  The  Sara- 
cenic conquests,  as  we  assume  (though  not  in  the 
same  sense  as  those  of  the  northern  barbarians)  par- 
took of  a  pljysical  quality,  and  if  in  the  main,  con- 
quests of  proselytism,  were  also  the  natural  out-bursts 
of  national  energy  over  a  surface  which  superstition 
and  luxury  had  already,  and  long  before  vanquished. 

But  leaving  this  ground,  there  is  good  room  to 
inquire  whether  the  project  of  bringing  or  of  driving 
the  much  corrupted  nations  by  force  and  terror  into 
the  path  of  truth,  might  not,  to  an  ardent  spirit,  seem 
in  the  age  of  Mohammed  both  lawful  and  noble. 

Possessed  of  the  first  elements  of  theology  (who 
shall  say  in  what  manner  obtained  ?)  and  standing  in 
the  position  which  he  occupied,  surrounded  at  hand 
by  polytheism,  and,  more  remotely,  by  the  ruins  of 


i 


160 


FANATICISM 


li 


three  fallen  religious  systems,  was  it  strange  that 
Mohammed  should  have  deemed  the  sword  an  instru- 
ment of  necessary  severity,  and  the  only  instrument 
which  could  be  trusted  to  for  efficaciously  reforming 
the  world  ?  In  listening  to  the  apology  *  which  the 
Prophet  himself  offers  for  the  use  of  arms  as  a  means 
of  conversion,  the  belief  at  least  is  suggested  that  he 
had  mused  in  a  comprehensive  manner  upon  the 
religious  history  and  the  actual  state  of  mankind,  and 
had  deliberately  come  to  the  persuasion  that  the 
interests  of  the  true  God  in  this  benighted  world  were 
utterly  hopeless,  unless  at  length  they  might  be  pro- 
moted and  restored  by  the  terrors  of  war.f  Moham- 
med perhaps  had  convinced  himself  that  so  worthy 
and  holy  a  purpose  would  well  excuse  any  means  that 
might  bring  it  about.  Christian  doctors  have  enter- 
tained the  same  principle,  and  have  made  a  worse  use 
of  it ;  for  assuredly  we  must  hold  the  fabrication  of 
miracles  to  be  a  worse  immorality  than  the  use  of 
force  employed  because  the  pretension  to  miracles 
was  scorned  :  and  again,  are  not  the  judicial  murders 
perpetrated  by  Spiritual  despots  more  horrid  than  the 
open  carnage  of  the  field  ? 
Looking  round  upon   the  world,  such  as  it  was 

*  It  is  by  no  means  always  easy  (especially  through  the  medium 
of  a  translation)  to  follow  the  chain  of  the  Prophet's  reasonings  or 
meditations ;  and  the  difficulty  is  increased  by  that  ambiguity  under 
which,  from  evident  motives  of  policy,  he  skreened  his  real  meaning 
when  he  had  to  speak  of  the  Jewish  and  Christian  economies,  the 
votaries  of  which  he  aimed  if  possible  to  conciliate.  Notwithstanding 
these  obscurities,  some  such  mode  of  thinking  as  that  assumed  above 
for  Mohammed,  makes  itself  dimly  apparent  in  many  passages  of  the 
Koran  ;  among  others,  the  42d  and  the  four  following  chapters  may 
be  referred  to.  An  under-tone  of  apology,  in  which,  without  com- 
promising his  authority  as  the  apostle  of  God,  he  excuses  his  measures 
as  founder  of  a  religion,  runs  through  the  rambling  incoherencies  of 
Mohammed. 

t  "  And  if  God  did  not  repel  the  violence  of  some  men  by  others, 
verily  monasteries,  and  churches,  and  synagogues,  and  the  templea 
of  the  Moslems,  wherein  the  name  of  God  is  frequently  commemo- 
rated, would  be  utterly  demolished.  And  God  will  certainly  assist 
him  who  shall  be  on  his  side :  for  God  is  strong  and  mighty  'V— 
Korany  chap.  22.  •  «»    ^ ' 


OP   THE   BANNER. 


161 


in  the  seventh  century,  what  appeared  to  have  been 
the  result  of  the  several  successive  endeavours  to 
reclaim  the  nations  from  their  inveterate  superstitions, 
and  their  idolatries?  Not  to  insist  upon  the  then 
decayed  state  of  the  religion  of  Zoroaster,  Moham- 
med saw  his  countrymen,  as  well  as  many  of  the  more 
luxurious  people  of  Asia,  deep  sunk  in  the  follies  of 
polytheism.  And  some  of  these  nations  had  fallen 
back  far  from  the  position  they  once  occupied.* — 

— The  theology  and  institutions  of  Moses,  after 
struffjilins:  to  exist  on  a  sinojle  and  narrow  spot 
through  a  long  course  of  ages,  were  then  to  be 
discerned  only  here  and  there  in  fragments,  scat- 
tered over  the  world,  like  the  broken  embellishments 
and  gilded  carvings  of  a  sumptuous  palace  which 
some  lawless  rout  has  overtaken  and  pillaged — 
strewing  the  earth  with  shining  atoms  of  the  spoil. 
Did  it  indeed  then  appear  as  if  Jehovah,  the  God  of 
Abraham  had  any  purpose  in  reserve  for  convertii:fcg 
the  world  by  the  agency  of  the  Jewish  people? 
Rather  it  seemed  that  the  obdurate  and  infatuated 
race  was,  in  every  religious  sense,  thrown  aside  and 
forgotten  as  a  broken  instrument.f — 

— Even  a  mind  much  more  enlightened  than  that  of 
Mohammed  (as  we  are  accustomed  to  think  of  him) 
might,  while  looking  at  Christendom  in  the  seventh 
century,  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  fate  of 
the  religion  of  Christ  after  an  experiment  on  a  large 
scale,  carried  on  through  six  hundred  years,  forbade  it 
to  be  any  longer  hoped  that  the  mild  means  of  mere 
instruction  would  permanently  avail  to  support  truth 
in  the  world.  A  pure  theology  and  a  pure  morality, 
sanctioned  by  miracles,  had,  as  a  system,  apparently 

*  "  Say,  Go  through  the  earth  and  see  what  hath  been  the  end  of 
those  who  have  been  before  you;  the  greater  part  of  Ihem  were 
idolaters." — Koran,  chap.  30. 

t  "  The  likeness  of  those  who  were  charged  with  the  observance 
of  the  law  (the  Jews)  and  then  observed  it  not,  is  as  the  likeness  of 
an  ass  laden  with  books." — Koran,  chap.  62. 

15* 


M 


162 


FANATICISM 


ijl 


spent  itself; — had  become  worse  than  impotent;  had 
covered  the  territories  of  ancient  civihzation  with  the 
noxious  growth  of  superstition,  so  that  idolatries — 
more  degrading  than  the  ancient  polytheism,  because 
men  not  divinities  were  the  objects  of  it,  had  taken 
full  possession  as  well  of  the  eastern  as  the  western 
nations*  Could  any  other  event,  at  that  time,  well 
be  looked  for  but  the  speedy  extinction  of  even  the 
name  of  Christianity,  and  the  giving  way  of  the  fee- 
ble barriers  which  still  preserved  the  south  from  the 
savage  forms  of  worship  of  the  Scythian  hordes? 
Mohammed — or  if  not  he,  any  thoughtful  observer, 
might  with  reason  have  regarded  the  human  family  as 
then  hastening  down  a  slippery  descent  towords  the 
bottomless  abyss  of  ignorance  and  utter  atheism.  He 
might  thus  have  thought,  and  his  inference  would  be 
strong,  that  the  sudden  use  of  even  the  most  violent 
means,  was  lawful  and  good,  if  so  the  universal  catas- 
trophe of  the  race  might  be  prevented. 

It  should  now  be  regarded  as  a  hopeless  endeavour 
to  determine,  without  doubt,  the  personal  character  of 
Mohammed  ;  and  it  might  perhaps  be  better  to  direct 
attention  rather  to  the  system,  than  to  its  author. — 
The  supposition  that  he  was  a  sheer  Fanatic  is  op- 
posed, if  not  quite  excluded,  by  the  description  given 
of  the  suppleness  of  his  public  conduct,  of  the  courte- 
ousness  of  his  manners,  and  of  the  ready  and  well- 
judged  adaptation  of  his  means  of  influence  to  the 
sudden  and  various  occasions  of  the  perilous  enter- 
prise he  had  taken  in  hand.  This  supposition,  more- 
over, it^s  hard,  we  will  not  say  impossible,  to  reconcile 
to  the  fact  of  his  having  sustained  fraudulent  preten- 
sions, and  of  propagating  delusions  of  which  he  could 
not  have  been  himself  the  dupe.  On  the  other  hand, 
as  well  the  Koran  (although  itself  a  vast  plagiarism — a 

*  The  fifth  chapter  of  the  Koran  affords  evidence  that  Mohammed 
was  well  aware  of  the  degeneracy  of  the  Christian  world.  "  The 
Christians  have  forgotten  what  they  received  from  God." 


OF   THE   BANNER. 


163 


booty,  rather  than  the  fair  fruit  of  mental  labour)  and 
the  political  and  military  conduct  of  Mohammed,  be- 
speak an  elevated  and  impassioned  soul.     Those  have 
not  looked  into  that  book,  and  have  not  perused  the 
story  of  the  Prophet's  public  life,  who  can  think  him 
a  vulgar  impostor,  or  believe  that  subtlety  and  craft 
were  the  principal  elements  of  his  character.     If  it 
be  true  that  the  author  of  the   Koran  has  stolen  his 
materials,  yet  must  a  man  have   had  greatness  and 
elevation  of  soul  to  have  stolen  as  he  has  done.     If, 
on  the  rich  fields  of  sacred  literature,  he  plundered — 
be   plundered   like   a   prince.     The   spoil   which   he 
gathered  so  largely  from  the  Jewish  and    Christian . 
Scriptures*  might  be  likened  to  that  with  which  cer- 
tain learned  and  munificent  conquerors  have  graced 
their  triumphs — they  have  indeed  trampled  upon  and 
overthrown  the  ancient  seats  of  arts  and    learning  ; 
but  yet  have  first  snatched  from  the  devastations  of 
war  each  signal  monument  of  greatness  and  beauty. 

Were  it  necessary  at  any  rate  to  oflfer  some  solution 
of  the  ambiguous  facts  of  Mohammed's  character, 
recourse  might  be  had  to  the  principle  that  a  mixture 
of  incongruous  moral  elements  does  often  take  place 
by  means  of  a  sort  of  silent  violence,  done  every  day 
and  hour  to  reason  within  the  bosom.  A  wise  and 
tranquil  mind  will  not  rest  until  it  has  adjusted  its 
rules  of  action  ;  has  determined  what  are  to  be  its 
objects ;  and  (whether  on  the  best  model  or  not)  yet 
brings  the  interior  man  into  a  condition  of  harmony 
and  order.  But  there  are  minds,  perhaps  energetic, 
and  rich  in  sentiment,  that  conscious  of  the  utter  in- 
compatibility of  their  leading  impulses  and  principles, 

♦  It  has  been  questioned  whether  Mohammed  had  ever  seen  the 
Christian  Scriptures.  That  they  were  familiar  to  him  it  is  hard  not 
to  believe  in  reaeing  the  Koran.  Or  even  if  the  actual  books  had 
not  come  under  his  eye,  the  phraseology  and  sentiments  of  the  evan- 
gelists and  apostles  he  was  certainly  not  ignerant  of;  these  were  to 
be  met  with  every  where,  both  in  the  east  and  the  west.  The  sort  of 
garbled  allusion  to  the  very  text  of  the  New  Testament  which 
abounds  in  the  Koran  may  be  seen  at  the  close  of  chap.  48. 


( 


164 


FANATICISM 


II 


willfully  abstain  from  the  endeavour  to  reconcile  the 
springs  of  action.  Despairing  to  reach,  or  not  even 
wishing  to  reach,  that  unity  of  soul  which  virtue  and 
wisdom  delight  in,  they  act,  and  think,  and  speak  in 
alternate  characters.  Now  the  better,  and  now  the 
worse  interior  personage  assumes  the  hour,  and  struts 
upon  the  stage.  Meanwhile  the  wondering  world 
gaze  perplexed,  and  disagree  upon  the  enigma — 
whether  the  man  be  sage  or  sophist — hero  or  pol- 
troon.* 

Such  perhaps  was  Mohammed  :  assuredly  not  truly 
wise  and  honest,  any  more  than  a  sheer  impostor. 
But  whatever  the  Originator  of  the  new  profession 
might  be,  many  of  his  companions  and  immediate  suc- 
cessors— his  vicars,  possess  an  unquestionable  claim  to 
the  praise  of  sincerity  and  genuine  fervour ;  and  they 
have  left  to  the  admiration  of  posterity  some  of  the 
rarest  examples  of  greatness  of  soul.  If  Christianity 
were  at  all  implicated  in  the  comparison — which  it  is 
not,  even  remotely,  we  should  shrink  from  a  contrast 
between  the  Crusaders  of  the  twelfth  century,  and  the 
Caliphs  of  the  seventh  and  eighth.f 

♦Certain  zealous — should  we  say  jealous  divines  of  our  own  ago 
and  country — have  seemed  to  think  Christianity  safe  only  when 
Mohammed  was  crushed  under  the  weight  of  their  anathemas. 
This  mode  of  feehng  one  does  not  so  much  wonder  to  meet 
with  among  those  whose  position  placed  them  in  actual  rivalry 
with  the  Moslem  faith.  It  is  quite  natural  to  hear  a  Spaniard — a 
Spanish'priest — an  inquisitor,  speak  of  Mohammed  as— enganadordel 
mundo,  Profeta  falso,  nuncio  de  Satanis,  el  peor  precursor  del  Anti- 
christo,  cumplimientodetodas  las  heregias,  y  prodigio  de  toda  falsi- 
dad  ;  or  to  say  all  in  a  word— un  demonio  encarnado  — i^.  /.  Bleda, 
Historia  del  Falso  Profeta  Malioma.  The  same  writer,  Inquisitor  as  he 
was,  does  not  wonder  that  pestilences,  and  earthquakes,  and  atmos- 
pheric prodigies  attended  the  birth  of  an  impostor  who  was  to  propa- 
gate his  rehgion  by  violence,  and  to  persecute  the  Church  !  The 
Church,  at  least  the  writer's  Church,  amply  took  its  revenge  in  the 
8ame  kind. 

fThe  perusal  of  Mohammedan  history  has  a  useful  tendency 
in  breaking  down  the  prejudice  which  leads  us  to  appropriate 
the  common  virtues  to  certain  modes  of  thinking.  Genuine  piety 
demands  indeed  a  genuine  belief  as  its  source  and  support.  But 
those  excellencies  of  conduct  and  character  M'hich  may  exist  apart 
from  Absolute  Truth  are  to  be  met  vrith  all  the  world  over ;  and 


OP  THE  BANNER. 


165 


Without  doubt  (as  w^e  shall  presently  see)  every 
essential  characteristic  of  fanaticism  belonged  to  the 
temper  and  conduct  of  the  Moslem  leaders  ;  never- 
theless it  is  certain  that  the  military  religious  maxims, 
and  the  usages  of  war  established  and  generally 
adhered  to  by  the  Saracenic  conquerors,  were  by  no 
means  such  as  comport  with  the  indiscrimate  and 
unconditional  ferocity  of  men  thoroughly  rancorous, 
or  natively  cruel ; — far  otherwise.  Ordinarily  (for 
instances  must  be  excepted)  the  genuine  zeal  of  pros- 
elytism  prevailed  over  the  fury  qf  war :  if  fanaticism 
ran  through  the  exploits  and  policy  of  the  martial  zeal- 
ots, it  was  still  a  fanaticism  that  leant  more  to  the  side 
of  enthusiasm,  than  o  f  malice,  and  that  readily  ad- 
mitted a  generosity  which  the  ecclesiastic  (when  he 
takes  the  sword)  seldom  thinks  of  and  which  the  sol- 
dier as  seldom  forgets.  Or  to  speak  a  volume  in  a 
word,  the  fanaticism  of  the  Mohammedan  conquests 
was  that  of  warriors,  not  that  of  Monks. 

Common  motives  of  policy,  to  the  exclusion  of  sin- 
cere motives  of  religion,  will  by  no  means  suffice  to 
account  for  the  rule  early  adopted  by  Mohamnried,  and 
adhered  toby  his  immediate  successors, of  offering  to 
Idolators  no  other  choice  than  that  of  conversion  or 
death  ;*  while  any  who  professed  the  worship  of  the 
one  God— whether  Jews  or  Christians,  might  purchase 
by  tribute  the  liberty  to  go  unhurt  and  at  leisure  on 
their  own  path  to  perdition.f  So  long  as  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Divine  Unity  were  but  acknowledged^ 
errors  of  profession  were  tolerated  ;  and  if  the  tribute 
laid  upon  conscience  was  heavy,  it  did  not  exceed  the 
measure  customary  with  Asiatic  conquerors.  The 
lenity  thus  shewn  by  Mohammed  to  the  followers  of 
Moses  and  of  Christ,  places  his  conduct  in  contrast 
with  that  of  most  zealots,  whose  rule  has  been  to  spend 

certainly  the  Moslem  nations  have  produced  their  share  of  shmmg 
examples.  That  mixture,  of  crimes  and  virtues,  which  belong:s  to 
history  generally,  is  met  with  as  well  in  Ferishta  as  m  William  of 
Tyre. 


k 


(    ; 
'I 


*A«  in  chaps.  43  and  9, 


tChap.  9. 


166 


FANATICISM 


OF    THE    BANNER. 


167 


41 


4 


i 


their  indulgence  upon  whoever  stood  most  remote  in 
faith  from  their  standard  ;  while  all  the  stress  of  iheir 
inexorable  spite  was  made  to  press  upon  the  sectarists 
of  the  next  shade.  Let  the  Arabian  prophet  be  called 
Heresiarch  and  Impostor  ; — ^yes,  but  a  Reformer  too. 
He  kindled  from  side  to  side  of  the  eastern  world  an 
extraordinary  abhorrence  of  idol  worship,  and  actu- 
ally cleansed  the  plains  of  Asia  from  the  long  settled 
impurities  of  polytheism.  Did  he  overthrow  Chris- 
tianity in  Syria, in  Africa,  in  Spain? — no.  Superstition 
only  ;  for  Christianity  had  died  away  from  those  coun- 
tries long  before. 

A  respect  for  man,  for  nature — for  God,  a  respect 
not  characteristic  of  the  frenzied  zealot,  was  shewn  in 
the  injunction  so  strictly  laid  upon  the  Moslem  armies 
' — Not  to  destroy  the  fruits  of  the  earth — not  to  disturb 
the  labours  of  the  husbandman — not  to  cut  down  the 
grateful  palm  or  the  olive — not  to  poison  or  to  stop  the 
wells — to  spare  the  old  and  the  young — the  mother  . 
and  her  babes,  and  in  a  word,  to  abridge  war,  as  far 
as  might  be  done,  of  its  horrors.  In  reading  these 
military  orders,  and  in  following  the  march  of  the 
caliphs  who  received  them,  it  is  impossible  to  exclude 
from  the  mind  the  recollection  of  wars  waged  by  Chris- 
tians— most  Christian  kings,  not  against  distant  and 
equal  foes,  but  upon  their  own  unoffending  and  help- 
less subjects — wars  which  left  nothing  behind  them 
but  smoking  ruins  and  a  blood-sodden  wilderness. 
Call  Mohammed  fanatic  or  impostor;  but  language 
wants  a  term — or  if  it  might  afford  one,  the  rule  of 
Christian  propriety  forbids  it  to  be  used,  which  should 
fitly  designate  the  Philips,  the  Ferdinands,  the  Louises 
of  our  modern  European  history. 

The  Caliphs  possessed  an  incalculable  advantage, 
as  compared  (for  example)  with  the  Leaders  of  the 
Crusades,  in  not  being  the  tools  or  agents  of  a  sacer- 
dotal class ;  but  in  uniting  in  their  single  persons  every 
office  that  naturally  commands  the  submission  of  man- 
kind. The  combination  of  the  regal  or  patriarchal, 
the  military,  and  the  sacred  functions,  in  one  office, 


whatever  inconveniences  it  may  have  entailed,  yet 
served  to  attemper  and  to  invigorate  each.  The  same 
venerated  personage — now  calmly  administering:  jus- 
tice as  civil  chief — now  fired  with  valour  and  at  the 
head  of  armies ;  and  now — strange  spectacle,  in  the 
pulpit,  enforcing  the  principles  and  duties  of  religion, 
would  be  likely,  in  recollection  of  his  alternate  char- 
acters, to  exercise  the  first  office  with  at  once  a 
religious  impartiality  and  a  martial  firmness — the 
second  with  humanity,  and  the  third  with  a  liberality 
of  feeling  larger  than  belongs  to  the  mere  ecclesiastic, 
and  borrowed  from  the  sentiments  proper  to  the  king 
and  the  captain.  At  the  same  time  the  people  would 
be  apt  to  look — to  their  civil  Chief  with  a  religious 
affection,  to  their  General  with  the  confidence  of  faith, 
and  to  their  Teacher  as  to  one  whose  words  carried 
all  the  authority  which  Heaven  and  earth  together  can 
confer. 

If  Christianity  be  not  answerable,  as  certainly  it  is 
not,  for  the  arrogance  and  the  crimes  of  princes  and 
prelates  bearing  Christian  titles ;  so  neither  should  w^e 
call  in  question  the  religious  system  of  Mohammed  on 
account  of  the  horrors  and  devastations  that  attended 
the  Tartar  conquests  of  a  later  period.  This  rule  of 
equity  kept  in  view,  we  have  to  look  simply  to  the 
Koran  and  to  the  general  conduct  of  its  early  promul- 
gators.— 

— And  after  every  due  extenuation  has  been  admit- 
ted, nothing  can  be  said  but  that  the  martial  zeal  of 
the  Moslem  was  an  egregious  fanaticism.  The  rise 
and  the  characteristics  of  this  vehement  impulse  is  a 
proper  object  of  curiosity. 

In  not  generating  a  pure  and  universal  philanthropy 
Mohammedism  was  not  worse  than  other  false 
religions; — and  in  this  respect  it  was  not  better. 
Notwithstanding  its  just  praise  of  teaching,  and  teach- 
ing with  much  clearness  and  energy,  the  great  and 
first  principle  of  Theology,  it  quite  failed  of  producing 
that    unrestrained   eood-vvill    to   man    which   is    the 


* 


168 


FANATICISM 


*l 


natural  consequence  of  love  to  God.  To  profess  to 
love  God,  while  on  any  pretext  we  entertain  a  ran- 
corous contempt  of  our  fellow  men,  is  the  most 
enormous  of  all  inconsistencies.  No  ingenuity  of  the 
theologian  can  make  it  seem  reasonable  that  those, 
however  depraved  in  faith  or  manners,  toward  whom 
the  Universal  Parent,  as  Creator  and  Preserver,  is 
shewing  kindness,  and  whom  He  loads  daily  with  hig 
benefits,  should  be  regarded  by  the  true  worshippers 
of  God  with  a  bitterness  which  God  himself  does  not 
display.  Men  who  like  ourselves  are  inhaling  the 
vital  air — are  enjoying  animal  existence — are  receiv- 
ing nourishment  from  food — are  sleeping  and  are 
waking  refreshed  from  their  beds,  such,  whatever 
may  be  their  errors  or  their  crimes,  are  manifestly  not 
yet  shut  out  from  the  pale  of  the  Divine  Indulgence : 
— God  has  not  yet  cursed  them : — how  then  can  we 
dare  anticipate  His  wrath  ?  The  feeling  that  would 
prompt  us  so  to  do,  or  the  dogmas  that  would  justify 
such  a  feeling,  must  be  hideously  false  and  wrong. 
Yet  this  capital  flaw  attached  from  the  first  to  the 
religion  of  the  Prophet. 

A  knowledge  of  God  is  found  to  avail  little  apart 
from  a  knowledge  of  ourselves,  and  unless  some 
genuine  emotions  of  contrition  have  broken  down  the 
pride  of  the  heart,  the  abstract  truth  of  the  Divine 
Unity  and  perfections  seems  only  to  inflame  our 
arrogance,  and  to  prepare  us  to  be  inexorable  and 
cruel.  So  it  was  in  the  system  of  Mohammed ; — it 
had  no  true  philanthropy,  because  it  had  no  humilia- 
tion, no  tenderness  and  penitence — no  method  of 
propitiation.* 

*  The  phrase  "God  will  favour  the  true  believers  and  forgive  their 
sins,"  very  often  occurs  in  the  Koran.  But  the  doctrine  of  pardon, 
and  the  feelings  connected  with  it,  are  nowhere  expanded  or  defined. 
Final  salvation  turns  entirely  upon  personal  merit;  see  chap.  23.  At 
the  last  day,  "  they  whose  balances  shall  be  heavy  with  good  work?, 
shall  be  happy :  but  they  whose  balances  shall  be  light,  are  those  who 
shall  lose  their  souls,  and  shall  remain  in  hell  forever."  Repentance, 
in  the  sense  of  the  Koran,  meand  turning  from  idolatry  to  the  true 


; 


OP    THE    BANNER. 


169 


The  Koran  does  indeed  teach  and  inspire  a  pro- 
found  reverence  toward  God;  and  it  has  actually 
produced  among  its  adherents  in  an  eminent  degree, 
that  prostration  of  the  soul  in  the  presence  of  the 
Supreme  Being  which  becomes  all  rational  creatures. 
But  at  this  point  it  stops.  Moslem  humiliation  has  no 
tears ;  and  as  it  does  not  reach  the  depths  of  a  heart- 
felt repentance,  so  neither  is  it  cheered  by  that 
gratitude  which  springs  from  the  consciousness  of 
pardon.  No  sluices  of  sorrow  are  opened  by  its 
devotions ; — the  affections  are  not  softened  :  there  is 
a  feverish  heat  among  the  passions,  but  no  moisture. 
Faith  and  confidence  toward  God  are  bold  rather  than 
submissive,  and  the  soul  of  the  believer,  basking  in  a 
presumption  of  the  divine  favour,  might  be  compared 
to  the  scorched  Arabian  desert,  arid,  as  it  is,  and 
unproductive,  and  liable  too  to  be  heaved  into  billows 
by  the  hurricane. 

No  other  religious  system  has  gone  so  far  in  quash- 
ing that  instinct  of  guilt  and  shame  which  belongs  to 
man  as  a  transgressor,  and  which  impels  him  to  look 
for  some  means  of  propitiation.  The  divine  favour  is 
secured  by  the  Koran  to  whoever  makes  hearty  pro- 
fession of  the  unity  of  God  and  the  apostleship  of  Mo- 
hammed. Almsdeeds,  punctuality  in  devotions,  and 
above  all,  valour  in  the  field,  exclude  every  doubt  of 
salvation.  No  sentiment  found  a  place  that  could 
open  the  heart  to  the  upbraidings  of  conscience.  Islam 
is  the  Religion  of  Pride  ; — the  religion  of  the  sword.* 

We  should  not  omit  to  notice  the  contrast  which 
presents  itself  between  the  Moslem  and  Christian 
systems  on  this  capital  point.     All  religious  history 

faith,  see  chap.  9.  Or  if,  as  in  chap.  4,  the  word  be  used  in  a  broader 
sense,  yet  is  the  range  allowed  to  contrition  very  limited.  Nothing 
like  a  system  of  propitiation  is  contained  in  Mohammed's  theology. 

♦  "  O  prophet !  God  is  thy  support,  and  such  of  the  true  believers 
who  follow  thee.— O  prophet!  stir  up  the  faithful  to  war:  if  twenty 
of  you  persevere  with  constancy,  they  shall  overcome  two  hundred," 
&c  Koran,  chap.  8.  "  Verily  God  loveth  those  who  fight  for  his  reli- 
gion m  battle  array."    Chap.  61. 

16 


4 


170 


FANATICISM 


r 


may  be  challenged  to  produce  an  exception  to  the  rule, 
that  the  Christian  doctrine  of  forgiveness  of  sins  is  the 
only  one  which  has  generated  an  efficacious  and 
tender-spirited  philanthropy. — It  is  this  doctrine,  and 
no  other,  that  brings  into  combination  the  sensitiveness 
and  the  zeal  necessary  to  the  vigour  of  practical  good- 
will toward  our  fellow  men.  Exclude  this  truth,  as  it 
is  excluded  by  sceptical  philosophy,  and  then  philan- 
thropy becomes  a  vapid  matter  of  theory  and  medita- 
tion. Distort  it  with  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  the 
zeal  of  charity  is  exchanged  for  the  rancour  of  prosely- 
tism.  Quash  it,  as  the  Koran  does,  and  there  springs 
up  in  the  bosoms  of  men  a  hot  and  active  intolerance. 
The  Christian  (and  he  alone)  is  expansively  and  assid- 
uously compassionate ;  and  this,  not  merely  because 
he  has  been  formally  enjoined  to  perform  the  "  seven 
works  of  mercy ;"  but  because  his  own  heart  has  been 
softened  throughout  its  very  substance — because  tears 
have  become  a  usage  of  his  moral  life,  and  because  he 
has  obtained  a  vivid  consciousness  of  that  divine  com- 
passion, rich  and  free,  which  sheds  beams  of  hope  upon 
all  mankind. 

The  correspondence  is  natural  and  real,  though  it 
may  not  be  obvious,  between  the  notions  entertained 
of  the  joys  of  heaven,  and  the  conceptions  that  are 
formed  of  the  world  of  punishment ; — the  latter  article 
of  belief  takes  its  quality  inversely  from  the  former. 
Is  it  not  seen  in  every  country  that  the  Palace  and  the 
Dungeon  are  correlatives  ?  Wherever  the  one  is  filled 
with  extravagant  and  shameless  debauchery,  the  other 
is  found  to  be  furnished  with  racks,  and  will  be  the 
abode  of  forgotten  despair.  And  so  the  sensualities 
of  Mohammed's  paradise  are  borne  out  by  parallel 
horrors — gross  and  barbaric,  which,  in  the  speciality 
of  the  description  given  of  them,  could  not  fail  highly 
to  inflame  the  malignant  passions.*  This  irritating 
influence  reached  a  pitch  of  frenzy  upon  the  field  of 

♦  An  adduction  of  the  passages  may  be  well  excused. 


i( 


OF   THE    BANNER. 


171 


battle ;  for  there  the  question  of  salvation  or  damna- 
tion lay  on  the  ground  between  the  marshalled  armies, 
to  be  fought  for  and  carried  by  the  stronger  arm. 
Never  perhaps  in  the  history  of  mankind  have  the 
appalling  ideas  of  the  invisible  world  so  much  and  so 
distinctly  mingled  with  the  fury  of  mortal  strife  as  in 
the  instance  of  Moslem  warfare.  To  the  eye  of  the 
Saracen  the  smoke  of  the  infernal  pit  appeared  to 
break  up  from  the  ground  in  the  rear  of  the  infidel 
lines,  and  its  sulphurous  steam  obscured  the  embattled 
field. — As  the  squadrons  of  the  faithful  moved  on  to 
the  charge,  that  pit  yawned  to  receive  the  miscreant 
host ;  and  in  chasing  the  foe,  the  champions  of  God 
and  his  prophet  believed  that  they  were  driving  their 
antagonists  down  the  very  slopes  of  perdition.  When 
at  length  steel  clashed  upon  steel,  and  the  yell  of  death 
shook  the  air — the  strife  was  not  so  much  between 
arm  and  arm,  as  between  spirit  and  spirit ;  and  each 
deadly  thrust  w^as  felt  to  pierce  the  life  at  once  of  the 
body  and  of  the  soul. 

Hatred,  which  is  softened  by  contempt  toward  a 
fallen  and  unresisting  foe,  is  embittered  by  the  same 
feeling  so  long  as  opposition  is  offered.  To  respect 
our  adversary  is  to  admit  those  sentiments  of  generosity 
which  spring  from  the  interchanged  sympathies  of 
virtue ;  but  to  loathe  him,  is  to  resent  his  hostility  as 
an  impudent  presumption  that  assails  our  personal 
honour.  The  Arabian  armies,  after  the  Peninsula 
itself  had  been  conquered,  scarcely  encountered  an 
enemy  that  they  did  not  look  upon  with  a  just  disdain. 
The  prophet  had  already  told  them  that  misbelievers 
were  dogs ; — and  every  excursion  tliey  made  beyond 
their  native  deserts  served  to  verify  his  words.  The 
human  race  had  become  in  that  age  effeminate  and 
debauched  in  an  unexampled  degree.  Superstition, 
with  its  idle  solicitudes,  its  mummeries,  and  its  despot- 
ism, had  at  length  thoroughly  worked  itself  into  the 
mind  of  the  (once)  Christian  nations,  both  of  the  east 


f' 


172 


PANATICISai 


OF    THE    BANNER. 


173 


1 


! 

I 


i 


and  west.*  The  profligacy  which  attends  a  decaying 
empire,  and  the  hypocrisy  of  monkish  virtue  had  joined 
together  in  the  work  of  debasing  and  enfeebling  every 
principle  of  human  action.  The  common  sense  and 
the  virtue  proper  to  that  "  common  life"  against  which 
all  the  doctors  of  the  Church,  during  four  centuries, 
had  inveighed,  and  from  which  they  had  effectively 
removed  every  corroborative  and  elevating  motive, 
had  disappeared ;  no  healthy  mean,  no  sound  and  solid 
foundation  remained  to  support  the  social  structure : — 
The  objects  that  met  the  eye  in  the  countries  swayed 
by  the  Byzantine  emperors  were  the  cowled  tenants 
of  the  monastery — the  debauched  retainers  of  palaces, 
or  the  faithless  and  insubordinate  soldiers  of  the  mer- 
cenary legions. 

When  the  princely  men  of  the  Arabian  desert, 
great  as  they  were  in  a  steady  physical  courage — 
great  in  a  condensed  and  sententious  energy  of  un- 
derstanding, and  great  in  simplicity  of  manners — a 
simplicity  not  rude  but  poetic;  when  these  heros- 
born,  broke  their  limits  and  trod  the  open  world, 
their  feeling  must  have  been  like  that  of  a  veteran 
garrison  which,  having  believed  itself  to  be  hemmed 
in  by  superior  forces,  at  last  descends  from  its  citadel, 
and  in  scouring  the  plains  and  woods  around,  meets 
only  with  frightened  herds  and  flocks.  To  dispossess 
nations  so  unworthy  of  the  bounties  of  nature,  to 
overthrow  governments  so  corrupt ;  and  especially, 
to  rid  the  world  of  superstitions  so  absurd  and  foul, 
might  seem  to  be  a  work  worthy  of  the  servants 
of  God. 

The  martial  fanaticism  of  the  Saracenic  armies 
presents  a  contrast  on  almost  every  point  if  compared 

*  Mohammed,  it  is  certain,  drew  his  knowledge  of  Christianity 
and  of  Christiana  chiefly  from  the  neighbouring  country— Egypt, 
where  perhaps  more  than  any  where  else,  superstition  had  vilified 
humanity,  and  had  converted  every  principle  of  religion  into  a  pre- 
posterous folly.  The  conquest  of  Egypt  fixed  upon  the  mind  s  of  the 
Caliphs  their  contempt  of  the  professors  of  the  Gospel. 


with  that  of  the  Crusaders.  Both  in  the  elements  and 
in  the  circumstances,  these  religious  enterprises  are 
dissimilar.  The  zeal  of  the  Moslem  armies  was  a 
passion  for  proselyting  the  world  ;  that  of  the  Crusa- 
ders was  a  mixed  sentiment,  drawing  its  force  from 
historic  recollections,  from  the  desire  of  revenge,  from 
the  influence  of  superstition,  and  from  grosser  reasons 
of  cupidity  and  ambition.  The  Caliphs  waged  war 
upon  Religious  Error — wherever  found  ;  and  the  task 
they  undertook  was  to  vanquish  the  souls  of  men, 
and  to  drag  them  captive  to  the  throne  of  the  True 
God  ; — the  intention  of  these  chiefs,  though  misin- 
formed, was  elevated  and  comprehensive.  But  the 
Crusaders  (so  far  as  their  motive  was  strictly  religious) 
thought  only  of  a  local  conquest,  and  of  a  definite 
triumph : — give  them  but  possession  of  a  certain  cave 
in  the  suburb  of  an  unimportant  dilapidated  town, 
and  they  wished  no  more.  Moreover  the  enterprise 
to  recover  the  Holy  City,  though  aggressive  in  its 
aspect,  was  also  in  a  sense  defensive,  for  not  rrierely 
did  the  Christian  nations  seek  protection  on  behalf  of 
their  pilgrims,  but  desired  to  regain  an  inestimable 
possession  which  Christendom,  by  every  claim  of 
history  and  of  feeling,  might  challenge  as  its  own. 

In  attendant  circumstances  also  the  two  enterprises 
greatly  differed.  As  the  one  was  an  emanation  from 
a  centre  over  a  wide  surface,  and  the  other,  a  rushing 
in  from  a  wide  surface  toward  a  single  point,  so  the 
characteristic  of  the  first  is  the  grandeur  of  simplicity ; 
that  of  the  second,  the  magnificence  of  accumulation. 
There  was  a  harmony,  sublime  though  terrible,  in  the 
early  diffusion  of  the  religion  of  Mohammed : — the 
high-minded  and  never-conquered  Arab — the  same 
being  in  all  ages  and  climates,  and  much  less  liable 
than  other  men  to  admit  modifications  of  his  opinions 
or  manners  from  foreign  sources,  presented  himself 
haughtily  on  the  frontiers  of  every  land — Africa, 
Spain,  Persia,  India,  China,  and  in  the  same  stern 

16* 


I  - 


174 


FANATICISM 


OF   THE    BANNER. 


175 


N 


'•m     ' 


ft! 


and  sententious  language  summoned  all  men  to  sur- 
render faith,  or  liberty,  or  life. 

But  the  Crusades  poured  a  feculent  deluge,  up- 
heaved from  the  long  stagnant  deeps  of  the  European 
communities,  upon  the  afflicted  Palestine.  The  dregs, 
the  scum,  and  the  cream  of  the  western  world — its 
nobility  and  its  rabble,  in  promiscuous  rout,  flowed 
toward  the  sepulchre  at  the  foot  of  Calvary.  The 
Saracenic  conquests  might  be  compared  to  a  sun-rise 
in  the  tropics,  when  the  deep  azured  night,  with  its 
sparkling  constellations,  is  almost  in  a  moment  ex- 
changed for  the  glare  of  day,  and  when  the  fountain 
of  light  not  only  darts  his  beams  over  the  heavens, 
putting  the  stars  to  shame,  but,  with  a  tyrannous 
fervour  claims  the  world  as  his  own.  The  Crusades 
might  be  better  resembled  to  the  tornado,  which, 
sweeping  over  some  rich  Polynesian  sea,  and  rending 
up  all  things  in  its  course,  heaps  together  upon  a 
distant  shore  the  confused  wrecks  of  nature  and  of 
human  industry. 

The  motley  host  that  dragged  its  length  across  the 
plains  of  the  lesser  Asia  was  not  more  various  in  its 
blazonments  and  banners  than  were  the  motives  of 
the  crowd  ;  and  the  many-coloured  embellishments  of 
the  enterprise  as  they  glittered  in  the  sun  under  the 
walls  of  Nice,  or  of  Antioch,  might  be  regarded  as 
symbolizing  the  heterogeneous  impulses  that  had 
brought  so  many  myriads  from  their  homes.  But 
the  accessory  motives,  whether  of  the  chiefs  or  the 
rabble,  do  not  belong  to  our  subject : — the  spirit  of 
adventure,  the  secular  ambition,  the  cupidity,  or  the 
sheer  superstition  are  to  be  set  off  as  accidents  merely 
of  that  genuine  infatuation  which,  at  intervals  during 
nearly  two  hundred  years,  convulsed  the  European 
nations. 

If  there  had  been  no  crusade  in  the  age  of  igno- 
rance, would  there  have  been  one  in  the  age  of 
knowledge?  We  dare  not  affirm  such  a  conjecture 
to  be  probable ;  and  yet  would  not  grant  it  to  be 


altogether  groundless.  The  follies,  the  miseries,  and 
the  ill  success  that  attended  the  endeavour  of  the 
European  states  to  possess  themselves  of  a  land  in 
which  they  had  every  right  sentiment  can  confer, 
have  branded  with  reprobation  an  enterprise  that 
otherwise  might  have  seemed  not  unreasonable,  even 
to  the  men  of  more  enlightened  times.  Let  the  case 
be  stated  abstractedly. — That  the  most  powerful  na- 
tions of  the  world — a  great  community  of  nations, 
professing  the  same  faith,  should  patiently  see,  on 
their  very  border,  a  land  every  foot  of  which  had 
become  memorable  by  association  with  the  events  of 
their  religion,  trodden  down  by  an  inimical  supersti- 
tion, while  themselves  were  barely  indulged  with 
leave  of  setting  foot  upon  it,  is  a  fact  that  would  not 
have  been  thought  probable ;  and  which,  we  almost 
believe,  would  not  to  the  present  time  have  been 
endured,  if  the  phrenzy  of  the  twelfth  century  had 
not  affixed  an  indelible  contempt  upon  the  project  of 
reclaiming  the  birth-place  of  Christianity  for  Chris- 
tendom. 

Had  there  been  no  crusade  in  the  twelfth  century, 
there  might  then  we  imagine  have  been  one  in  the 
seventeenth :— not,  assuredly,  in  the  nineteenth  ;  for 
Christianity  at  the  present  moment  although  it  com- 
mands too  much  regard,  and  is  too  well  understood  to 
allow  of  its  giving  sanction  to  religious  warfare  ;  yet 
is  far  from  supporting  that  once  powerful  feeling  which 
made  the  sacred  sites  objects  of  impassioned  curiosity. 
The  very  reverse  was  true  in  the  age  of  Urban  1*1. 
— Too  little  understood  in  its  spirit  and  maxims  to 
repress  the  enterprise,  Christianity  nevertheless  then 
held  an  undisputed  sway  over  the  imaginations,  the 
hopes  and  the  fears  of  the  mass  of  mankind  through- 
out Europe.  The  idea  of  a  conquest  so  desirable 
being  once  presented,  nothing  could  be  more  natural 
than  that  the  crusading  zeal  should  flame  out,  and  burn 
from  year  to  year  with  a  constant  intensity.  This 
ardour  was  in  fact  not  to  be  quenched  until  a  long 


i 


176 


FANATICISM 


l\} 


series  of  unexampled  miseries  and  misfortunes  had 
rendered  the  design  of  maintaining  the  Christian  power 
in  the  east  hopeless.  If  the  war  had  been  so  conduct- 
ed as  to  have  ensured  earlv  success; — and  success 
was  at  one  time  by  no  means  impossible,  the  history 
of  all  nations  must  have  taken  a  different  turn,  and 
Asia,  perhaps,  and  Europe  might,  after  a  while,  have 
met  in  emulous  friendship  upon  the  spot  which  nature 
has  marked  out  as  the  true  metropolitan  site  of  the 

world. 

The  fanaticism  of  the  Crusades  cannot  be  deemed 
any  thing  more  than  an  out-burst  of  that  exalted  and 
imaginative  superstition  which  had  become  ripe  in 
every  country  of  Euroj)e.  The  military  sentiment 
moreover,  had  then  reached  a  pitch  which  demanded 
opportunity  to  spend  itself;  and  the  two  vehement 
principles — the  religious  and  the  military,  being  alike 
under  the  control  ot  the  sacerdotal  order,*  nothing  else 
could  well  happen  th;m  that  some  enterprise  of  con- 
quest, directed  and  incited  by  the  ministers  of  religion, 
should  enframe  the  en(  roies  of  men.  Perhaps  the 
Church  could  not  at  all  have  retained  her  power  over 
the  western  nations  in  the  quickened  condition  they 
were  just  entering  upon,  if  she  had  not  at  that  very 
moment  put  herself  at  tlie  head  of  the  ruling  passion 
of  the  age. 

How  far  the  Chiefs  of  the  Church  discerned  her 
critical  interests  when  the  enterprise  was  first  started, 
it  is  impossible  certainly  to  know.  But  that  the  Cru- 
sades became  at  length  a  matter  of  policy  and  calcula- 
tion at  Rome  is  abundantly  evident.     Still  the  genuine 

*  The  ecclesiastic?  who  attend rd  the  Crusades  were  not  on  every 
occasion  able  to  hold  that  supremacy  at  which  they  aspired.  A  no- 
table instance  of  their  failure  occurred  immediately  upon  the  capture 
of  Jerusalem. — Huict  iours  apres  la  prince  de  Hierusalem  les  princes 
chrestieos  tindrent  conseil  pour  eslire  un  chef  d'entr'eux,  contre  le 
vouloir  des  Evesques  qui  vouloient  premierement  faire  esleclion  d'un 
Patriarche,  et  pariceluy  Patriarcheestre  esleu  et  sacre  apres  un  Roy, 
neantmoins  en  fin  fut  tsleu  de  la  pluralite  le  due  Godefroy,  lequel  ils 
menerent  et  presenterent  au  saintt  sepulchre,  avec  Hymnes  el  Caa- 
tiques,  donnant  louange  a  Dieu, — Cronique  de  ^omiandie. 


OP   THE    BANNER. 


177 


fanaticism  continued  to  mingle  itself,  as  it  readily  does, 
with  sinister  and  mercenary  views ;  and  pontifl's  and 
monks,  without  losing  sight  of  those  palpable  objects 
which  ordinarily  ruled  their  conduct,  surrendered 
themselves  heartily  to  the  current  of  the  general  en- 
thusiasm. 

In  each  succeeding  Crusade  there  appears  to  have 
been,  on  the  part  of  the  hierarchy,  less  of  the  pure 
fanaticism  of  the  enterprise,  and  more  of  political  cal- 
culation; until  at  length  the  latter  element  had  so 
nearly  absorbed  the  former  that  the  Church  could  no 
longer  even  feign  the  zeal  requisite  for  exciting  and 
maintaining  the  ardour  of  the  people.  It  was  just  in 
this  languishing  state  of  the  crusadmg  sentiment  that  a 
new  vimlence  was  shed  into  it  by  Innocent  III.  who 
finding  that  the  efligy  of  the  Saracen  would  no  longer 
serve  to  set  the  vindictive  passions  of  Europe  in  a 
flame,  substituted  that  of  the  Heretic  ;  and  forthwith 
Albigenses,  not  Moslems,  became  the  victims  of  the 
martial  frenzy  of  the  catholic  world. 

Already  we  have  found  occasion  to  regret  that 
men  who  stood  confessed  as  the  intellectual  leaders  of 
the  age  in  which  they  lived,  and  who,  by  right  at  once 
of  ecclesiastical  rank,  of  personal  character,  and  of 
real  mental  power,  enjoyed  almost  an  unlimited  influ- 
ence, did  not  stop  to  ask  whether  the  actual  course  of 
human  affairs,  and  the  tendency  of  opinions  and  prac- 
tices was  indeed  good  and  rational,  or  preposterous 
and  fatal.  Were  any  such  censorial  function  exercised 
by  the  ruling  minds  of  every  age,  and  were  there  a 
court  of  public  conscience,  wherein  right  and  wrong, 
on  a  large  scale,  should  be  calmly  examined,  not  only 
might  single  flagitious  acts  be  prevented ;  but  the  in- 
sensible progression  of  degeneracy  might  be  retarded  ; 
and  even  a  happy  return  frequently  made  to  the  path 
of  reason  and  virtue.  In  casting  the  eye  over  the 
busy  scene  of  European  affairs  in  the  twelfth  century, 
it  is  natural  to  ask  if  the  great  community  of  the 
western  nations  did  not  furnish  at  least  some  one 


178 


FANATICISM 


:fi 


eminent  spirit,  capable  of  applying  the  simple  rules  of 
Christian  ethics,  and  the  plain  maxims  of  common 
sense,  to  the  project  of  the  Crusade.  Or  allowing  the 
infatuation — plausible  as  it  certainly  appeared,  to  take 
its  course  unchecked  at  the  first,  and  to  run  itself  out 
through  a  full  fifty  years,  was  it  not  natural  that  the 
few  accomplished  spirits  of  the  age  should  at  length 
have  brought  the  entire  folly  under  review%  and  have 
stepped  forward  to  disenchant  the  nations? 

For  performing  such  a  work  of  reason  and  charity, 
whom  better  should  we  look  to  than  to  Bernard  of 
Clairvaux  ?  Is  his  personal  ability  to  discharge  such 
an  office  questioned  ? — It  was  personal  ability,  unaided 
by  adventitious  means — it  was  mere  power  of  mind 
and  the  momentum  of  individual  character  that  raised 
him  to  a  position,  in  the  European  community,  of  more 
extensive  influence  than  any  five  human  beings  known 
to  histor}"  have  occupied.  As  simple  monk,  and  then 
as  abbot — emaciate,  demure,  downcast  in  look^^^-a 
mere  shadow  or  apparition  of  humanity,  who,  if"^en 
in  the  choir  among  his  companions,  would -^liave 
attracted  no  eye — this  Bernard  had  come  to  such 
authority  that  he  spoke  law  in  the  ears  of  sovereign 
pontiffs — made  princes  tremble,  or  rejoice,  and  so 
ruled  the  waves  of  the  popular  mind  as  to  be  able  to 
raise  or  allay  the  storms  of  national  tumult  at  pleasure. 
True  indeed  it  is  that  no  mind,  how  energetic  soever, 
could  have  acquired  or  sustained  any  such  power  in 
an  age  of  intelligence.  It  was  the  superstition  of  the 
times — at  once  profound  and  vehement,  which  afforded 
means  and  opportunity  for  the  exercise  of  an  autocracy 
of  this  sort.  Yet  assuredly  he  who  could  actually  win 
and  hold  it,  must  be  regarded  as  no  ordinary  being. 
And  although  the  age  was  blind,  credulous,  and 
infatuated,  Bernard  reared  his  influence,  in  the  main, 
not  by  cajolery  and  imposition,  but  by  those  arduous 
and  genuine  methods  which  an  upright  mind  has 
recourse  to.  Learned  and  laborious ;  self-denying, 
calm,  and  disinterested,  copious  and  accomplished, 


OF   THE    BANNER. 


179 


and,  need  it  be  said,  eloquent,  he  could  well  support 
in  personal  intercourse  with  men  of  any  rank,  the 
reputation  which  he  possessed  by  common  fame.  If 
in  any  thing  his  celebrity  rested  on  fictitious  preten- 
sions, he  might  without  hazard  have  renounced  what- 
ever was  unsubstantial.* 

Might  not  then  this  potent  monk,  who  had  fair 
opportunity  of  gathering  up  the  lessons  furnished  by 
the  history  and  calamities  of  the  first  Crusade,  have 
discerned  and  have  asserted  truth  and  morality,  as 
applicable  to  such  an  enterprise,  and  so  have  saved 
myriads  of  lives,  and  have  prevented  innumerable 
crimes  ?  Alas,  instead  of  thus  standing  in  the  breach, 
and  effecting  peace  between  Europe  and  Asia,  St! 
Bernard,  with  the  Gospel  on  his  lips,  incited  again  the 
western  nations  to  make  a  furious  assault  upon  their 
brethren  of  the  east :  and  in  so  doing  became  actively 
the  author  of  incalculable  miseries  and  bloodshed  ! 

However  little  analogy  there  may  appear  to  be 
between  our  own  position  in  the  nineteenth  century 
and  that  of  the  preachers  and  leaders  of  a  Crusade  in 
the  twelfth,  it  may  prove  not  uninstructive  to  examine 
somewhat  more  closely  the  remarkable  instance 
before  us. — 


♦  Not  the  slightest  historical  difficulty  attaches  to  the  great  mass 
of  Church  wonders.  Folly,  fraud,  and  preposterous  credulity  are 
stamped  upon  them  in  the  plainest  characters.  The  perplexity 
arises  in  those  few  exceptive  instances  in  which  men  of  sense 
(although  superstitious)  and  men  whose  honesty  and  piety,  in  the 
main,  we  cannot  readily  grant  to  be  questionable,  acted  a  promi- 
nent part  in  the  drama  of  miracles.  Not  that  this  perplexity  jit  all 
implies  evidence  to  which  we  should  listen  in  favour  of^the  miracle 
itself; — for  this  is  altogether  wanting;  but  a  real  enigma  presents 
itself  when  we  endeavour  to  set  an  esteemed  and  respectable  name 
quite  free  from  the  charge  of  collusion  with  knaves.  St.  Bernard — if 
we  take  the  word  of  his  biographers,  wrought  many  more  miracles 
than  Paul  probably  had  done.  And  it  appears  from  certain  expres- 
sions in  his  letters  and  tracts  that  he  did  not  disclaim  the  reputation 
of  a  wonder-worker.  His  personal  credit  is  therefore  implicated  in 
the  business.  We  must  at  present  leave  the  riddle  as  we  find  it; 
only  saying  that  Bernard's  real  and  indubitable  merits  were  such  as 
might  well  have  borne  the  deduction  of  all  the  prodigies  with  which 
bis  encomiasts  have  burdened  his  fame. 


/I 


180 


FANATICISM 


OF  THE   BANNER. 


181 


m 


■» 


I « 


— The  violence  of  rude  minds  spends  itself  soon, 
and  commonly  includes  the  means  of  its  own  correc- 
tion. But  when  measures  essentially  unjust  and 
absurd  are  promoted  by  men  who,  having  under 
command  their  own  passions,  are  able  at  leisure  to 
work  upon  the  passions  of  others — when  the  tones  of 
moderation  and  the  stores  of  learning  are  employed 
for  perverse  uses — it  is  then  that  the  mischief  spreads 
and  endures.  Peter  the  Hermit  was  indeed  author  of 
one  Crusade ;  but  could  never  have  excited  another. 
St.  Bernard,  who,  with  supercilious  brevity  *  alludes 
to  his  predecessor  as  an  extravagant  fanatic,  not 
merely  kindled  the  Crusade  of  1148;  but  gave  so 
powerful  a  sanction  to  the  desire  of  conquering  the 
Holy  Land,  that  without  unfairness,  the  luckless  expe- 
ditions which  occupied  the  next  century  may,  in  great 
part,  be  charged  to  his  influence. 

If  those  of  the  epistles  of  St.  Bernard  which  relate 
to  the  Crusade,  and  if  his  Exhortation  to  the  Knights 
Templars,  could  be  read  without  knowledge  of  the 
specific  intention,  or  without  recollection  of  the  histo- 
rical facts  whereto  they  relate,  one  might  easily 
believe  that  the  project  in  question  was  one  fully 
recommended  by  wisdom  and  benignity,  and  sanc- 
tioned by  Religion.  How  sedate  and  measured  is 
the  language — how  temperate  the  incitements — how 
discreet  the  particular  advices — how  full-fraught  is 
every  page  with  the  serenity,  the  forethought,  the 
circumspection  becoming  a  chief ! — and  how  copious 
is  the  adduction  of  Scripture  !  almost  every  sentence 
revolves  upon  a  text ; — the  sighs  of  piety  rise  in  fumes 
from  every  paragraph — ejaculatory  prayer  inspirits 
many  a  sonorous  period.  Yes,  here  we  find  the  very 
substance  of  fanaticism  quite  stripped  of  whatever  one 

*  Fuit  enirn  in  priore  expeditione,  anteqiiam  Jerosolyma  caperetnr, 
vir  ciuidam,  Petrus  nomine,  ciijus  et  vos  (nisi  fallor)  saepe  mentionem 
audiatis.  Is  populuin  qui  sibi  crediderat,  solum  cum  suis  incedens 
tantis  periculis  dedit,  ut  aut  nulli,  aut  paucissimi  eorum  evaserint,  qui 
noa  corruerint,  aut  fame,  aut  ghdlo.—Ep.  363. 


would  call  fanatical ;  and  graced  too  by  whatever 
appears  wise  and  devout.  Already  we  have  turned 
aside  to  contemplate  an  instance  of  the  madness  of 
asceticism,  gravely  mantled  and  philosophic,  in  the 
person  of  the  Cappadocian  primate;  now  we  have 
before  us  a  form  not  less  philosophic,  or  celestial ; — it 
is  that  of  the  seraphic,  the  politic,  and  the  accom- 
plished Bernard — chief  patron  and  mover  of  the 
madness  of  religious  military  ambition  ! 

Those  who  will  say  that  illusions  and  infatuations 
of  this  elaborate  order,  tranquilly  aflfecting  the  very 
elements  of  the  character,  belong  only  to  ages  of 
mental  slavery  and  superstition,  and  are  not  now  to 
be  looked  for  as  possible,  assuredly  have  something  yet 
to  learn  of  the  philosophy  of  human  nature  ;  and,  not 
improbably,  are  themselves  the  victims  of  some  similar 
deep-spread  error.  St.  Bernard,  calmly  seated  in  his 
cell — the  Gospels  open  before  him,  and  with  the  events 
of  the  first  Crusade  fresh  in  his  recollection,  thought 
that  nothing  was  more  praiseworthy  or  pious  than  to 
lash  the  passions  of  the  western  nations  to  a  new  fury 
for  exterminating  the  infidel  power  in  the  east.* 

That  identity  of  sentiment,  and  even  of  language 
which  characterises  the  same  fanaticism  under  circum- 
stantial differences,  it  is  curious  and  instructive  to 
notice.  Mohammed  doubts  not  a  moment  the  lawful- 
ness of  propagating  the  true  faith  by  the  sword : — the 
very  same  plenary  conviction  runs  through  the  pages 
of  St.  Bernard.  The  prophet  of  Mecca  says — Fight 
for  God,  and  he  will  pardon  all  your  sins,  and  infalli- 
bly give  you  the  delights  of  Paradise.  The  monk  of 
Clairvaux,  on  behalf  of  the  Church,  and  in  her  name, 
assures  to  every  Crusard  a  full  remission  of  all  sins, 

*  Though  carried  away  by  the  specific  fanaticism  of  the  Crusade, 
St.  Bernard  did  not  forget  mercy  and  justice  in  all  instances.  In 
several  of  his  epistles  he  decisively  condemns  the  violences  of  which 
the  Jews  were  at  that  time  the  victims.  Audivimus  et  gaudemus, 
ut  in  vobis  ferveat  zelus  Dei :  sed  oportet  omnino  temperamentum 
Bcieniiae  non  deesae.  Non  sunt  persequendi  Judsei,  non  sunt  tru- 
cidandi,  sed  nee  effugandi  quidem. — Ep.  363. 

17 


180 


FANATICISM 


— The  violence  of  rude  minds  spends  itself  soon, 
and  commonly  includes  the  means  of  its  own  correc- 
tion. But  when  measures  essentially  unjust  and 
absurd  are  promoted  by  men  who,  having  under 
command  their  own  passions,  are  able  at  leisure  to 
work  upon  the  passions  of  others — when  the  tones  of 
moderation  and  the  stores  of  learning  are  employed 
for  perverse  uses — it  is  then  that  the  mischief  spreads 
and  endures.  Peter  the  Hermit  was  indeed  author  of 
one  Crusade ;  but  could  never  have  excited  another. 
St.  Bernard,  who,  with  supercilious  brevity  *  alludes 
to  his  predecessor  as  an  extravagant  fanatic,  not 
merely  kindled  the  Crusade  of  1148;  but  gave  so 
powerful  a  sanction  to  the  desire  of  conquering  the 
Holy  Land,  that  without  unfairness,  the  luckless  expe- 
ditions which  occupied  the  next  century  may,  in  great 
part,  be  charged  to  his  influence. 

If  those  of  the  epistles  of  St.  Bernard  which  relate 
to  the  Crusade,  and  if  his  Exhortation  to  the  Knights 
Templars,  could  be  read  without  knowledge  of  the 
specific  intention,  or  without  recollection  of  the  histo- 
rical facts  whereto  they  relate,  one  might  easily 
believe  that  the  project  in  question  was  one  fully 
recommended  by  wisdom  and  benignity,  and  sanc- 
tioned by  Religion.  How  sedate  and  measured  is 
the  language — how  temperate  the  incitements — how 
discreet  the  particular  advices — how  full-fraught  is 
every  page  with  the  serenity,  the  forethought,  the 
circumspection  becoming  a  chief! — and  how  copious 
is  the  adduction  of  Scripture  !  almost  every  sentence 
revolves  upon  a  text : — the  sighs  of  piety  rise  in  fumes 
from  every  paragraph — ejaculatory  prayer  inspirits 
many  a  sonorous  period.  Yes,  here  we  find  the  very 
substance  of  fanaticism  quite  stripped  of  whatever  one 


*  Fuit  enim  in  priore  expeditione,  anteqiiam  Jerosolyma  caperetnr, 
vir  quidam,  Petrus  nomine,  ciijus  et  vos  (nisi  fallor)  saepe  mentionem 
audislis.  Is  populum  qui  sibi  crediderat,  solum  cum  suia  incedens 
tanlis  periculis  dedit,  ut  aut  nulli,  aut  paucissimi  eorum  evaserint,  qui 
noQ  corruerint,  aut  fame,  aut  gladio. — Ep.  363. 


OF  THE   BANNER. 


181 


would  call  fanatical ;  and  graced  too  by  whatever 
appears  wise  and  devout.  Already  we  have  turned 
aside  to  contemplate  an  instance  of  the  madness  of 
asceticism,  gravely  mantled  and  philosophic,  in  the 
person  of  the  Cappadocian  primate ;  now  we  have 
before  us  a  form  not  less  philosophic,  or  celestial ; — it 
is  that  of  the  seraphic,  the  politic,  and  the  accom- 
plished Bernard — chief  patron  and  mover  of  the 
madness  of  religious  military  ambition  ! 

Those  who  will  say  that  illusions  and  infatuations 
of  this  elaborate  order,  tranquilly  affecting  the  very 
elements  of  the  character,  belong  only  to  ages  of 
mental  slavery  and  superstition,  and  are  not  now  to 
be  looked  for  as  possible,  assuredly  have  something  yet 
to  learn  of  the  philosophy  of  human  nature  ;  and,  not 
improbably,  are  themselves  the  victims  of  some  similar 
deep-spread  error.  St.  Bernard,  calmly  seated  in  his 
cell — the  Gospels  open  before  him,  and  with  the  events 
of  the  first  Crusade  fresh  in  his  recollection,  thought 
that  nothing  was  more  praiseworthy  or  pious  than  to 
lash  the  passions  of  the  western  nations  to  a  new  fury 
for  exterminating  the  infidel  power  in  the  east.* 

That  identity  of  sentiment,  and  even  of  language 
which  characterises  the  same  fanaticism  under  circum- 
stantial differences,  it  is  curious  and  instructive  to 
notice.  Mohammed  doubts  not  a  moment  the  lawful- 
ness of  propagating  the  true  faith  by  the  sword : — the 
very  same  plenary  conviction  runs  through  the  pages 
of  St.  Bernard.  The  prophet  of  Mecca  says — Fight 
for  God,  and  he  will  pardon  all  your  sins,  and  infalli- 
bly give  you  the  delights  of  Paradise.  The  monk  of 
Clairvaux,  on  behalf  of  the  Church,  and  in  her  name, 
assures  to  every  Crusard  a  full  remission  of  all  sins, 

♦  Though  carried  away  by  the  specific  fanaticism  of  the  Crusade, 
St.  Bernard  did  not  forget  mercy  and  justice  in  all  instances.  In 
several  of  his  epistles  he  decisively  condemns  the  violences  of  which 
the  Jews  were  at  that  time  the  victims.  Audivirnus  et  gaudemus, 
ut  in  vobis  ferveat  zelus  Dei:  sed  oportet  omnino  temperamentum 
Bcieniiae  non  deesae.  Non  sunt  persequendi  Judaei,  non  sunt  tru- 
cidandi,  scd  nee  effugandi  quidem. — Ep.  363. 

17 


182 


FANATICISM 


and  the  blessedness  of  a  martyr,  beyond  doubt,  if  he 
fell  in  the  holy  war.*  To  be  slain,  says  the  saint,  is 
to  benefit  yourself; — to  slay,  is  to  benefit  Christ !  Im- 
partially balanced,  whom  shall  we  first  excuse,  or 
whom  rigorously  condemn  ?  The  one,  by  violence 
and  carnage  would  fain  vanquish  the  world  to  God  : — 
the  other,  by  the  like  means,  thought  to  achieve  a 
revenge  for  the  Church,  and  to  effect  a  clearance  of  a 
single  superstition  from  a  single  spot.f  Both  egregi- 
ously  misunderstood  the  Divine  Character;  both 
frightfully  abused  the  language  and  the  motives  of 
religion :— the  difference  is  only  in  the  terms  and  style, 
and  in  the  magnitude  and  grandeur  of  the  project. 

*  Habes  nunc  fortis  miles,  habes  vir  bellicose,  iibi  dimices  absque 
periculo :  ubi  et  vincere  gloria,  et  mori  lucrum.  Si  prudens  mercator 
es,  si  conquisitor  hujus  sajculi ;  magnas  tibi  nundinas  indico  ;  vide  ne 
pereant.  Suscipe  crucis  signum,  et  omnium  pariter,  de  quibus  corde 
contrito  confessionem  feceris,  indulgentiara  obtinebis.  Materia  ipsa 
si  emitur,  parvi  constat :  si  devoto  assumitur  humero,  valet  sine  diibio 
regnum  Dei.— Ep.  363.  The  English  barons,  {Ep.  423,)  are  told  by 
St.  Barnard  that  the  messenger  he  had  despatched  would  not  only 
explain  the  business  of  the  Crusade  at  large,  and  narrate  what 
had  been  effected,  but  exhibit  to  them— largissimam  veniam  quae 
in  literis  dominiPapae,  super  eos  qui  cruces  susceperunt,  continetur. 
The  Book,  de  Laude  Novae  Mihtiae,  ad  Milites  Templi,  exhibits, 
page  after  page,  elevated  and  impassioned  religious  sentiments,  thick- 
set with  Scriptural  quotations,  and  the  whole  purport  of  this  elo- 
quence is  to  stimulate  the  murderous  passions  of  mankind.  The 
lawfulness  of  the  enterprise,  and  its  merit,  and  the  certainty  of  salva- 
tion to  those  who  should  fall  in  the  attempt,  are  every  where  and 
in  the  boldest  terms  affirmed.  Securi  igitur  procedile  milites  et 
intrepido  animo  inimicos  crucis  Christi  propellite,  certi  quia  neque 
mors,  neque  vita  poterunt  vos  seperare  a  caritate  Dei,  qua  est  in 
Christo  Jesu ;  illud  sane  vobiscum  in  omni  periculo  replicantes  :  Sive 
vivimus,  sive  morimur  Domini  sumus !  Quam  gloriosi  revertuntur 
▼ictores  de  prcelio  !  quam  beati  raoriuntur  martyres  in  prcelio  !  .  . .  . 
Miles,  inquam,  Christi,  securus  interimit,  interit  securior.  Sibi 
praeslat  cum  interit ;  Christo  cum  interimit !     This  might  well  be 

given  as  apomted  version  of  more  than  one  passage  in  the  Koran  • 

80  like  is  fanaticism  to  fanaticism,  all  the  world  over. 

t  Commota  est  et  contremuit  terra,  quia  Rexcceli  perdidit  terram 
»uam,  terram  ubi  steterunt  pedes  ejus.  Inimici  crucis  ejus 
officinas  redemptionis  nostraB  evertere  moliuntur,  et  loca  Christi 
sanguine  dedicata  profanare  contendunt.  Praecipue  autem  illud 
Christianas  religionis  insigne,  sepulcrum,  inquam,  in  quo  sepultus  est 
Dommus  majestatis,  ubi  facies  ejus  sudario  ligata  est  omni  oisa 
uituntur  evellere. — Ep.  423.  * 


OF   THE    BANNER. 


183 


The  eloquence  of  St.  Bernard  was  every  where 
triumphant.  France  and  Germany  listened  in  rapture 
to  his  sermons :  England*  yielded  to  his  epistles : 
Europe  again  drew  the  sword,  and  devoted  herself  to 
God,  vowing  to  crush  his  enemies.f  Moreover  the 
faults  and  precipitancy  of  the  former  expedition  were 
prudently  avoided  in  this :  —  the  counsels  of  the 
Preacher,  as  well  as  his  declamations,  were  duly  re- 
garded.J  Visions  and  miracles,  also,  not  a  few,§ 
sanctioned  the  zeal  with  which  the  preacher  had  in- 
spired princes  and  knights.  Even  to  think  ill  success 
possible  was  an  impiety. — Heaven  audibly  blessed  the 
enterprise,  and  assured  a  prosperous  issue  !|| — Luck- 
less confidence  !  the  intentions  of  heaven  in  this,  as  in 
so  many  other  instances,  had  been  utterly  misinter- 
preted.    Disaster  attended  the  expedition  throughout 

*  The  Epistle  just  quoted,  was  addressed  to  the  English  Barons, 
and  the  abbot  does  not  omit  the  blandishments  that  might  conciliate 
tbe  parties.  Et  quia  terra  vestra  foecunda  est  virorum  fortium,  et 
militari  juventute  referta  ;  decet  vos  inter  primos,  et  cum  primis,  ad 
sanctum  opus  accedere,  et  armatos  ascenaere  ad  serviendum  Deo 
viventi. 

t  The  apologist  of  St.  Bernard  may  allege  that  he  acted  on  this 
occasion  in  obedience  to  the  sovereign  Pontiff,  Eugenius  III.,  in  writ- 
ing to  whom,  on  the  subject,  he  says — De  cetero  mandastis,  et  obe- 
divi.  Yet  even  this  same  pope  was  his  creature :  he  goes  on  to 
declare  the  success  of  his  labours. — Et  foecundavit  obedientiam  praB- 
cipienlis  auctoritas.  Siquidem  annunciavi  et  locutus  sum,  muttiplicati 
sunt  super  numerum.  Vacuantur  urbes  et  castella,  et  psene  jam  non 
inveniunt  quem  apprehendant  septem  mulieres  virura  unum,  adeo 
ubique  viduse  vivis  remanent  viris. — Ep.  247. 

I  Beside  other  instances  of  prudence,  St.  Bernard  gave  proof  of 
his  good  sense  in  utterly  declining  the  honour  of  leading  in  person 
the  Crusade.  His  fanaticism  savoured  far  more  of  the  cell  and  the 
pulpit,  than  of  the  field. — duomodo  videlicet  in  Carnotensi  conventu 
(quonam  judicio  satis  miror)  me  quasi  in  ducem  et  principem  militiae 
elegerunt:  certum  sit  vobis  nee  consilii  mei,  nee  voluntatis  meae 
fuisse  vel  esse.  .  .  .  Cluis  sum  ego,  &c. — Ep.  256. 

§  .  .  .  .  nimirum,  says  the  Saint's  Notary,  cum  aliquando  vigenti, 
seu  etiam  plures  abincoramodisvariis  sanarentur,  nee  facile  ab  hujus- 
modi  dies  ulla  vacaret. 

II  Fanatics  may  safely  enough  perform  miracles — among  their 
followers  ;  but  they  commit  a  fatal  blunder  when  they  turn  prophets. 
It  was  here  that  St.  Bernard  made  shipwreck,  and  on  the  very  same 
rock  his  imitators  in  every  age  have  split.  The  infatuations  of  tho 
present  day  are  meeting  a  like  fate. 


184 


FANATICISM 


its  course,  and  a  failure  in  all  its  objects  disgraced  its 
conclusion.  But  it  is  unjust,  say  some  of  the  contem- 
porary religious  historians,  to  affirm  that  St.  Bernard's 
Crusade,  though  calamitous  to  the  eye  of  sense,  pro- 
duced no  fruits,  such  as  might  be  held  to  redeem  the 
saint's  reputation ; — for  how  many  thousand  soldiers 
of  the  cross  did  it  send  with  a  prosperous  gale  to 
heaven,  to  claim  the  promised  rewards  of  martyr- 
dom !* 

This  ingenious  solution  of  the  perplexing  event  did 
not  satisfy  St.  Bernard  himself.  After  declaring  with 
a  piety  we  should  admire,  that  he  would  rather  him- 
self sustain  in  silent  patience  the  reproaches  of  the 
profane,  than  that  the  glory  of  God  should  be  assailed, 
and  would  think  himself  happy  to  serve  as  "  the  shield 
of  God,"  receiving  in  his  person  every  shaft  of  the 
adversary ;  he  labours  to  find  cases  paralled  to  his  own 
among  the  histories  of  the  Old  Testament :— he  ob- 
liquely refers  to  the  miracles  wrought  by  him  in  attes- 
tation of  the  Predication  of  the  Cross  ;  and  then,  as  the 
last  and  best  recourse,  alleges  the  inscrutable  profundity 
of  the  Divine  Providence,  which,  as  he  scruples  not  to 
affirm,  often  leads  men  on  only  to  disappoint  and 
thwart  them  ;  and  commiinds  that  to  be  done  which  it 
intends  to  frustrate !     -[Ahs  how  much,  even  by  the 

*  Nee  tatnen  ex  ilia  profectione  Orientalis  Ecclesia  liberari,  sed 
coelestis  meruit  impleri  et  laetari.  And  was  not  the  lot  of  those  who 
survived  and  returned  to  sin,  more  lamentable  than  that  of  those  qui 
in  fructibus  pcEnitentiae  purgatas  variis  tribulationibus  Christo  animas 
reddiderunt ?—ri(a.  S.  Bern.  1.  iii.  c  4.  If  the  Crusade  effected  no 
visible  good,  yet  did  it  secure  the  salvation  of  a  multitude  of  souls, 
gays  the  Abbot  Otho  ;  while  another  writer  assures  us,  on  infallible 
testimony,  that  a  multitude  of  the  fallen  angels  were  restored  on  the 

t  See  Epistle  288,  and  especially  the  Apology  he  addressed  to  the 
Pope,  De  Conaideratione,  1.  ii.  c.  1.  Scorners  asked  for  evidence  that 
the  Crusade  was  from  God.— Non  est  quod  ad  ista  ipse  respondeam, 
parcendum  verecundia  mea.  Responde  tu  pro  me  et  pro  te  ipso, 
secundem  ea  quae  audisti  et  vidisti;  aut  certe  secundum  quod  tibi 
insjAraverit  Deus!  .  .  .  .  Etsi  necesse  sit  unum  fieri  e  duobus, 
malo  in  nos  murmur  hominum,  quam  in  Deum  esse.  Bonura  iiiihi, 
gi  dignetur  me  uti  pro  clypeo. 


OP   THE    BANNER. 


185 


religious  is  the  Divine  Providence  outraged,  and  the 
Divine  attributes  vilified  !  Every  thing  is  understood 
sooner  than  the  simplest  principles  of  morality  and 
religion.  We  passionately  plunge  into  enterprises 
that  are  wholly  unjustifiable  or  absurd — enterprises 
clearly  incompatible  at  once  with  the  dictates  of  com- 
mon sense,  and  the  precepts  of  the  gospel.  What 
may  be  wanting  on  the  side  of  reason  we  largely  sup- 
ply from  the  stock  of  faith : — texts  and  fervours  fill 
out  the  bubble  of  our  confidence. — But  in  due  season 
the  folly  bursts : — natural  causes  produce  natural 
effects  : — the  seed  we  had  sown  springs  up  in  its  proper 
kind.  How  reasonable  then,  and  how  becoming  would 
it  be  to  retract  our  presumption,  and  to  confess  our 
fault.  Instead  of  admitting  any  such  pious  ingenu- 
ousness, we  fretfully  talk  of  the  unfathomable  depths 
and  the  inscrutable  mysteries  of  the  ways  of  God  1 
and  sum  up  the  matter  perhaps,  as  does  St.  Bernard, 
with  a  grossly  misapplied  text — "  Blessed  is  every  one 
that  is  not  offended  in  Him," — as  much  as  to  say,  God's 
ways  are  such  that  it  is  a  vast  merit  not  to  resent 
them  !* 

Of  the  second  crusade  to  the  Holy  Land  the  Abbot 
of  Clairvaux  was  personally  the  author.  Another  far 
more  murderous,  and  more  fatally  successful,  may 
justly  be  attributed,  though  indirectly,  to  his  influence. 
About  half  a  century  after  the  death  of  their  Founder, 
the  Bernard  ins,  with  the  zealous  Arnold  Amalric  at 
their  head,  and  too  well  authorized  by  the  language 
and  conduct  of  their  spiritual  father,  charged  them- 
selves with  the  business  of  assembling  the  catholic 
world  for  the  extermination  of  the  heretics  of  Lan 
guedoc.  With  how  much  of  horrid  glory  these  labours 
were  crowned,  the  histories  of  the  times  attest.  The 
Romanist  of  the  present  day  confides  in  the  truth  of 
the  miracles  recorded  to  have  been  performed  by  St. 

*  .  .  .   .  hoc  abyssus  tanta,  ut  videar  mihi  non  immerito  pronun- 
tiare  beatum,  qui  non  fuerit  scandalizatus  in  eo. — De  Consid.  1.  2,  c.  L 

17* 


186 


FANATICISM 


Bernard  ; — indeed  he  cannot  question  them  without 
discarding  at  the  same  time  the  whole  of  that  evidence 
upon  which  his  church  rests  her  pretensions  as  the 
perpetual  organ  of  Christ  on  earth. — But  now  it  was 
on  the  credit  of  these  very  miracles  (should  we  not 
rather  with  Paul  call  them  "lying  wonders") — it  was 
on  this  warranty  expressly,  that  the  preachers  of  the 
Albigensian  Crusade  incited  that  detestable  expedition 
and  justified  the  massacres  and  tortures  that  attended 
its  course.  With  the  maxims  of  the  New  Testament 
before  him,  is  there  then  nothing  that  should  stagger 
the  faith  of  the  Romanist  in  these  blood-stained  prodi- 
gies? If  the  direct  and  immediate  use  to  which  they 
were  applied  was  carnage,  rape,  and  unutterable  fero- 
cities; — if  the  clew  of  miracle  runs  throughout  the 
story  of  abominable  murder,  shall  a  man  who  owns 
common  powers  of  reason  and  conscience,  swallow, 
with  a  blind  voraciousness,  at  once  the  wonders  and 
the  murders ;  or  shall  he  do  so,  and  claim  to  be  any 
longer  respected  among  Men  and  Christians  ?^ 

♦An  inconsistency  not  easy  to  adjust,  belongs  to  St.  Bernard's 
statements  of  the  duty  of  the  Church  towards  heretics.     In  some 
places  he  seems  to  disallow  measures  of  violence  ;  while  in  others 
he  plainly  recommends  the  use  of  force.     These  two  points  at  least 
are  pretty  certain  :  1st.  That  whatever  he  might  say  or  sanction  in 
compliance   with    the   practices   of   the  age,   or  in  submission   to 
authority,  his  personal  or  original  dispositions  were  not  of  a  ferocious 
kind  ;  but  the  reverse  :  and  2d.    That  whatever  his  personal  dis- 
positions might  be,  he  had  become  so  thoroughly  the  slave  of  the 
Romish  despotism,  that  he  held  himself  ready  to  promote  whatever 
it  approved  and  enjoined.     So  it  is  commonly  that  men  of  mild 
tempers  are  employed  by  the  arrogant  and  the  tyrannous  as  their 
fittest  tools  in  giving  effect  to  oppressive  or  sanguinary  acts.     la 
commenting  upon  Canticles  ii.  15.     "  Take  us  the  foxes,  the  little 
foxes,  that  spoil  the  vines,  for  our  vines  have  tender  grapes  :"  this 
Father  observes,  that  the  little  foxes  are  insidious  heresies,  or  rather 
the  heretics  themselves,  and  adds,  Capiantur,  dico,  non  armis,  sed 
argumentis,  quibus  refellantur  errores  eorum :  ipsi  vero,  si  fieri  potest 
reconcilientur  Catholicae  ; — this  is  all  very  well :— the  Church  says, 
Capite  eas  nobis,  catch  them  for  us.     Yet  his  doctrine  in  other 

E laces  is  of  a  different  sort.  With  a  slippery  ambiguity  of  phrases, 
e  gives  room  for  the  use  of  the  most  extreme  means — approves  the 
zed  of  those  who,  in  tumultuous  fury  had  fallen  upon  heretics  j 
though  he  will  not  advise  the  deed  ; — factum  non  suademus ;— but 
concludes  that  the  sword  is  to  be  employed  against  those  who  persist 


OF   THE    BANNER. 


187 


The  fanaticism  of  religious  w^ar  has  seldom  if  ever 
been  graced  and  recommended  more  remarkably  than 
in  the  instance  of  the  canonized  hero  of  France, 
whose  disasters  and  death  may  be  said  to  have 
brought  the  crusading  enterprise  to  a  close  ; — for  that 
which  the  magnanimous  Godfrey  began,  the  saint-like 
Louis  concluded. — The  extant  effigies  of  this  good 
and  valiant  prince  so  well  correspond  with  his  re- 
corded actions  that  we  cannot  but  look  upon  them 
as  authentic*  What  mildness  and  dignity — ^goodness, 
humility,  and  yet  fire  and  strength  beam  from  the 
countenance !  It  is  a  face  which  for  suavity  might 
belong  to  the  most  refined  ages  ; — a  face  shining  with 
a  religious  elevation  seldom  indeed  exhibited  in  the 
series  of  royal  portraits.  And  such  in  truth  was 
Louis  IX.  Disinterested  to  a  fault  in  his  conduct 
toward  neighbouring  powers ; — a  peace-maker,  and 
an  arbitrator  inflexibly  just.  Industrious  in  the  dis- 
charge of  public  business,  lenient  and  moderate  in 
exacting  dues,  accessible  and  gracious  to  the  poor : — 
firm  toward  the  proud  and  powerful.  Irreproachable 
in  private  life — temperate  and  chaste.  And  withal,  a 
warrior  of  no   mean  reputation — justly  admired   as 

in  propagating  their  errors.— /n  Cantica,  Serm.  66.  But  in  an 
epistle  to  Hildefond,  count  of  Toulouse,  whom  he  accuses  of  favour- 
ing the  heretics  of  his  states,  all  the  truculent  rancour  of  the  genuine 
churchman  flows  forth  ;  and  in  addressing  the  clergy  of  the  province 
after  his  return,  he  seems  quite  to  pant  from  the  labours  of  extermi- 
nation ;  and  thus  concludes  his  advices. — Deprehensi  sunt  lupi  .  , 
deprehensi,  sed  non  comprehensi.  Propterea  dilectissimi,  ;)erse</immn» 
et  comprehendite  eos  :  et  nolite  desistere,  donee  penitus  depereant, 
et  diffugiant  de  cunctis  finibus  vestris,  quia  non  est  lutum  dormire 
vicinis  serpentibus. — Ep.  242  ad  Tolosanos,  post  reditum  suu7n. 
Such  are  the  strains  of  ecclesiastics,  even  some  of  the  best  of  them, 
when  irritated  by  opposition.  The  reader  will  not  fail  to  notice  the 
indulgent  distinction  which  the  good  abbot  observes  between  wolves 
and  foxes.  In  the  sense  of  Bishop  Fouquet,  the  men,  women,  and 
children  of  a  city  belonged  indiscriminately  to  the  former  class,  if 
heresy  was  harboured  at  all  among  them. 

*  Several  portraits  of  St.  Louis,  and  some  of  them  well  executed, 
are  extant  (or  were  so  before  the  revolution)  in  the  Churches  dedica- 
ted to  him,  as  well  as  in  MSS.  These  are  to  be  seen  in  Montfau- 
cqq's  Antiquities  of  France, 


188 


FANATICISM 


OP   THE    BANNER. 


l» 


well  on  account  of  his  personal  valour,  as  of  his  con- 
duct in  the  field  : — chivalrous  in  the  best  sense  of  the 
term  ;  and  pious  in  a  sense  at  which  the  severity  of 
modern  notions  must  not  cavil.* 

What  then  does  our  hero  want — unless  it  be  that 
integrity  and  vigour  of  reason  of  which  the  superstition 
of  iiis  age  had  cashiered  him  ?  If  one  might  bring 
St.  Louis  into  parallel  with  the  statesmen  and  war- 
riors of  classical  history — an  Epaminondas  or  Timo- 
leon,  a  Scipio  or  a  Marius,  though  he  claims  over 
them  the  advantage  of  some  higher  sentiments  and 
purer  morals,  he  must  yield  to  them  all  the  preroga- 
tives of  that  erect  position  of  the  soul  which  belonged 
to  them  (although  superstitious  in  their  way)  as  exempt 
from  the  humiliation  inflicted  by  sacerdotal  despotism. 
— The  Grecian  and  Roman  public  worship  stood 
subservient  to  the  civil  and  military  powers  of  the 
state ;  while  that  of  the  Christian  nations  (of  the  mid- 
dle ajjes)  not  merely  usurped  every  kind  of  influence, 
but  with  the  arrogance  fitting  infinite  pretensions,  trod 
the  very  souls  of  men  in  the  dust.  Strong  emotions 
of  shame  and  indignation  spring  up  in  the  mind — 
shame  for  the  degradations  of  humanity,  shame  for 
the  abused  religion  of  Christ,  when  one  suddenly 
turns  from  the  sculptures  that  have  brought  down 
to  our  times  the  forms  of  the  Grecian  chiefs,  and 
inspects  the  mosaics,  the  parchments,  the  painted 
windows,  and  the  bas-reliefs,  in  which  the  magnani- 
mous Louis  is  shewn,  stripped  to  the  waist  like  a  vag- 
abond thief,  and  patiently  receiving  from  the  hands  of 
emasculate  monks  the  discipline  of  the  whip !  Or 
shall  we  contemplate  the  monarch  of  France — not 
only  king,  but  soldier  and  statesman,  followed  by  the 
bevy  of  his  court,  and  a  swarm  of  ecclesiastics,  on  the 
road  before  Sens,  pacing  the  rugged  ground  barefoot, 

*  Louis  IX.  succeeded  his  father  in  1226,  and  was  only  in  his 
fourteenth  year,  and  subject  to  the  queen  mother,  when  he  acted  his 
part  in  the  Abominable  conduct  of  the  Church  and  Court  towards 
Raymond  VII. 


on  his  w^ay  to  meet — was  it  some  delegate  from  the 
upper  world — some  minister  of  heaven  before  whom 
mortality  must  tremble,  and  the  pride  of  kings  fall 
in  the  dust ;— No — nothing  but  a  relic,  and  this 
relic,  not  a  relic;  but  the  palpable  w^ork  of  monkish 
knavery.* 

Far  from  being  a  farcical  or  a  politic  compliance 
with  the  usages  of  the  times,  these  acts  of  devotion 
were,  on  the  part  of  Louis  IX.  unquestionably  the 
result  of  his  sincere  and   profound  convictions.     So 
likewise   were   his   Crusades  ;— the    infatuation    had 
thoroughly  worked  itself  into  his  soul ;  and  every  part 
of  his  conduct  in  the  two  disastrous  expeditions — the 
one  to  Egypt  and  Syria,  and  the  other  to  the  African 
coast,  exhibits  the  resolution,  the  consistency,  and  the 
greatness    which    distinguish    vigorous    minds    when 
ruled  by  sonie  single  and  paramount  motive.     This 
motive  was,  in  many  important  respects,  unlike  that 
which  had  impelled  the  Crusaders  of  the  preceding 
century.     The  course  of  events  had  insensibly  given 
to  the  oriental   war  another  and  a  new  character. 
With  Godfrey,  Robert  of  Normandy,  and  Tancred, 
the  project  was  aggressive  and  spontaneous  ;  but  after 
the  Christian  powers  had  made  a  permanent  lodge* 
ment  in  Palestine,  and  naturalized  themselves  there,  it 
became  at  once  a  duty  of  humanity,  and  a  demand  of 
public  justice  to  defend  the  oriental  colonies.    Accord- 
ingly we  now  hear  much  more  than  at  first,  of  the 
obligation  to  protect  and  to  rescue  the  afflicted  Chris- 
tians of  the  eastern  church  ;  and  it  is  this  plea,  rather 
than  any  motive  of  a  fanatical  or  superstitious  kind, 

•^  St.  Louis,  receiving  the  grace  of  penitence,  is  one  of  the  subjects 
represented  upon  the  windows  of  the  vestry  of  St.  Denis.  Baldwin 
II.  Latin  emperor  of  Constantinople,  in  acknowledgment  of  the 
French  king's  bounties  to  the  Christians  of  Palestine,  sent  him — the 
crown  of  thorns,  which  had  been  preserved  in  the  imperial  palace; 
but  which  the  Venetians  had  lately  held  as  a  pledge  for  a  loan.  Louis 
discharged  this  debt,  and  received  the  sacred  treasure.  Single  thorns 
broken  off,  were  forthwith  conferred  upon  several  of  the  Churches 
aua  Abbeys  of  Fiance, 


T'AICA  TTriGM 


190 


FANATICISM 


which  was  employed  in   the  time  of  St.  Louis  to 
quicken  the  zeal  of  princes  and  adventurers.* 

In  this  light  mainly  did  the  French  monarch  regard 
the  expeditions  he  conducted  ;  and  it  would  be  harsh 
indeed  to  affirm  that  those  attempts  might  not  appear 
to  him  in  the  fullest  degree  justifiable.  And  moreover, 
as  the  final  motive  had  gradually  become  of  a  different 
sort,  so  were  the  immediate  excitements  very  unlike 
that  which  impelled  the  earlier  invasions  of  the  Holy 
Land.  Then  the  torrent  of  war  poured  on  directly  to 
the  revered  centre  of  devotion.  Although  the  route 
was  unavoidably  circuitous,  still  the  line  of  movement 
tended  always  towards  the  sacred  sites.  The  enthu- 
siasm of  the  enterprise  mounted  up  therefore  at  every 
step  of  the  march ; — nor  did  it  abate  until  the  soldiers 
of  the  cross  had  waded  through  rivers  of  Moslem  blood 
in  their  way  to  the  foot  of  Zion. 

But  how  much  must  the  crusading  zeal  have  sunk, 
and  how  much  must  it  have  mingled  with  secondary 
motives,  when,  instead  of  rushing  on  to  the  endeared 
and  outraged  city  of  human  redemption,  the  crusards 
had  first  to  assail  the  enemy  in  some  quarter  far  remote 
from  those  spots  ;  for  instance,  along  the  banks  of  the 
Nile,  or  upon  the  burning  sands  of  the  Numidian  coast, 
and  fifteen  hundred  miles  from  the  Holy  City !  and  as 
the  impulse  was  by  this  means  slackened,  so  probably 
room  might  be  left  for  emotions  of  a  better  and  a 
calmer  sort.  This  was  certainly  the  case  with  the 
French  king.  The  superstitions  of  his  times  apart, 
for  which  St.  Louis  was  not  responsible,  his  last  hours 
exhibited  whatever  is  becoming  to  the  faith  and  temper 
of  a  dying  Christian. 

As  well  Royal  pride  (if  any  sparks  of  such  a  feeling 
lingered  in  the  bosom  of  this  religious  king)  as  the 

*  We  must  revert  to  St,  Bernard  to  do  him  the  justice  of  saying, 
that,  even  a  full  century  before  the  time  of  Louis  IX.  the  plea  of 
reheTing  and  defending  the  Syrian  Christians  was  employed  as  an 
auxiliary  motive  for  undertaking  the  Crusade.  Tempus  et  opus  est 
existimo  ambos  educi  in  defmsionem  orientalis  ecclesias. 


OF   THE    BANNER. 


m 


ordinary  excitements  attendant  upon  a  martial  enter- 
prise, were  fallen  at  that  moment  to  the  very  lowest 
ebb.     After  winning  some  laurels  of  little  value,  the 
crusaders,  at  the  season  of  insufferable  heat,  had  en- 
camped upon  the  desert  within  sight  of  Tunis.     But 
they  had  scarcely  began  to  rest  when  pestilence  broke 
out,  and  threatened  to  leave  the  residue  of  the  army 
at  the  mercy  of  an  infuriated  foe.     One  of  the  first 
to  fall  was  the  son  of  the  king — designated  from  his 
cradle  to  sorrow.*      Over  his  grave  Louis  himself 
sickened,  and  his  frame,  already  wasted  by  a  long 
course  of  austerities,  at  once  gave  way.  Earthly  hopes 
of  every  kind  were  waning  fast. — This  second  expe- 
dition, which  should  have  redeemed  the  calamities  of 
the  first,  it  was  now  certain  must  be  frustrated  ; — even 
whether  space  would  be  secured  for  giving  Christian 
rites  to  the  dying  and  the  dead  was  doubtful :— whether 
a  wreck  of  the  flower  of  France  would  return  to  tell 
the  tale  of  disaster  seemed  uncertain.     Horrors  thick- 
ened on  every  side  ;  and  worse  horrors  impended.  But 
though  the  earth  itself  should  remove,  and  the  founda- 
tions of  things  sublunary  be  broken,  the  dying  monarch 
admitted  no  despondency:  —  the  surrounding  gloom 
did  not  darken  his  soul.     His  energies  as  a  man,  his 
solicitudes  as  a  king,  his  affection  as  a  father,  his  zeal 
as  a  Christian,  were  not  relaxed.     Whatever  the  exi- 
gency of  the  time  demanded  to  be  done  or  arranf^ed, 
he  completed.      His  last  acts  as  a  sovereign  were 
directed  to  the  long  desired  object  of  reconciling  the 
Latin  and  Greek  Churches ;  and  having  surrendered 
his  kingdom,  with  wise  and  pious  advices,  to  his  son, 
he  closed  his  eyes  on  worldly  pomps,  in  calm,  if  not 
assured  hope  of  entering,  in  due  season,  upon  the  joys 
of  eternity. — 

— So  is  the  grace  of  heaven  wont  to  relieve  the 
darkest  histories  of  the  follies  and  crimes  of  nations, 
by  unsullied  instances  of  piety  and  goodness. 

*  John  Tristan,  born  in  Egypt  at  the  time  of  his  father's  captivity. 


192 


FANATICISM 


OP   THE    BANNER. 


193 


The  rule  of  analogy  leads  on  by  natural  transitions 
from  scene  to  scene,  making  it  necessary  to  traverse 
the  order  of  Time.  Commencing  with  the  most  com- 
plete instance  of  spontaneous  or  aggressive  religious 
warfare,  we  have  passed  to  those  enterprises  that  were 
of  a  mixed  kind,  and  have  followed  them  until  they 
assumed  a  defensive  aspect.  We  start  anew  then 
from  this  point  to  contemplate  the  memorable  example 
of  a  nation  gathering  its  strength  to  a  convulsive  and 
frenzied  effort  for  the  rescue  of  its  ancient  and  im- 
passioned  religious  hopes. 

As  the  terrible  catastrophe  of  the  Jewish  city  and 
people  is  fraught  with  horrors  beyond  perhaps  any 
other  scene  of  history,  so  did  the  sentiments  then  called 
up_the  fanaticism  of  national  pride,  reach  a  height  to 
which  no  parallel  can  be  found.  An  examination  of 
the  moral  condition  and  political  circumstances  of  the 
Jewish  community  at  the  time  is  quite  necessary  if  we 
would  either  read  the  dismal  story  with  intelligence, 
or  afford  to  the  infatuated  sufferers  that  measure  of 
sympathy  which  they  may  well  claim.  And  with  this 
view  it  is  moreover  indispensable  that  we  should  dis- 
miss, for  a  moment  at  least,  those  special  feelings  with 
which,  as  Christians,  we  are  accustomed  to  contem- 
plate the  vengeance  that  overtook  the  betrayers  and 
murderers  of  the  Lord,  and  the  obdurate  enemies  of 

his  gospel. 

Yet  is  it  difficult  to  disengage  the  mind  from  those 
impressions  which  give  to  the  events  of  the  Jewish 
war  their  supernatural  character ;  in  truth  this  stamp 
of  extraordinary  interposition  is  imprinted  upon  every 
transaction  of  the  time :— the  rebellion  itself— the 
madness  of  the  endeavour,  on  the  part  of  so  feeble  a 
state,  to  resist  the  undivided  force  of  the  Roman 
Empire — the  pertinacity  of  the  resistance — the  frenzy 
of  the  intestine  feuds,  and  the  delirium  of  the  last 
struggle,  bear  the  marks  of  a  judicial  abandonment : 
while,  on  the  other  side,  the  singular  conduct  of  the 
Roman  authorities,  as  well  as  many  incidents  of  the 


I  i 


n 


siege  and  capture  of  the  city,  exhibit  visibly — must 
we  not  admit,  the  irresistible  control  of  a  hand  from 
above.  Looking  upon  the  city,  overshadowed  by  the 
bursting  cloud  of  fate,  the  seals  of  Divine  wrath  are 
seen  upon  its  palaces ;  and  one  believes  to  hear  the 
sullen  thunder  that  announces  the  departure  of  Jeho- 
vah from  the  ancient  place  of  His  rest. — Or  turning 
toward  the  encircling  armies,  the  Roman  banners 
appear  to  bear  an  inscription,  bespeaking  Titus  as  the 
minister  of  the  predicted  wrath  of  God. 

It  need  not  be  feared  lest,  while  affording  in  this 
instance  a  due  commiseration  to  an  unhappy  people, 
we  should  make  ourselves  sharers  in  their  peculiar 
guilt.  Every  reader  of  Jewish  history  learns  to  dis- 
tinguish between  the  ordinanj  and  the  theological 
aspect  of  the  calamities  that  have  followed  the  race. 
Who  that  has  the  heart  of  a  man  hesitates  to  take 
part  with  the  persecuted  Israelite  against  the  inquisi- 
tor ;  or  who  would  stand  aloof  a  moment,  if  an  occa- 
sion offered  for  defending  him  from  the  wanton 
ferocity  of  the  feudal  baron  or  the  Romish  priest? 
And  yet  these  very  sufferings,  and  all  the  miseries 
that  have  pursued  the  people  in  the  lands  of  their 
dispersion,  are  as  truly  a  retribution  from  heaven  of 
their  national  unbelief,  as  were  the  famine,  the  pesti- 
lence, and  the  carnage  that  attended  the  overthrow  of 
Jerusalem.  If  it  be  lawful  to  think  and  speak  with 
indulgence  and  compassion  of  the  Jew  of  the  tenth 
and  fifteenth  centuries,  it  is  so  to  feel  the  same  in 
regard  to  his  ancestor  of  the  age  of  Vespasian.  Do 
we  want  a  sanction  for  sentiments  of  this  kind  ? — we 
receive  one  that  is  absolute  and  conclusive  from  the 
example  of  the  Messiah  himself,  who  when,  with 
prophetic  eye,  he  beheld  the  city  as  if  then  torrents  of 
blood  were  pouring  down  from  its  gates,  "  wept  over 
it;"  and  without  forgetting  its  crimes,  lamented  its 
miseries. 

The  fanaticism  which  came  to  its  paroxysm  in  the 
Jewish  war  demands  to  be  traced  in  its  growth,  and 

18 


194 


FANATICISM 


OF  THE  BANNER. 


195 


watched  in  its  several  stages  of  enhancement.  To  do 
so  is  nothing  more  than  an  act  of  justice  toward  the 
fallen  people ;  and  moreover  the  subject  has  (as  we 
shall  afterwards  see)  a  special  and  very  important 
bearing  upon  a  question  which  arises  concerning  the 
influence  of  the  Mosaic  and  prophetic  dispensation  in 
forming  the  national  character. 

After  a  schooling  of  almost  a  thousand  years  (from 
Moses  to  Daniel)  a  discipline  in  which  was  mingled 
every  means  of  grace  and  judgment ;  yet  attended 
with  only  partial  or  temporary  success,  the  Hebrew 
people  had  at  length  firmly  embraced — never  again  to 
lose  it,  that  first  lesson  of  theology  which  it  was  the 
main  design  of  the  Mosaic  institution  to  convey. 
Ever  propense  to  the  degrading  service  of  fictitious 
divinities  while  secluded  among  the  glens  of  Palestine, 
and  while  their  obedience  might  have  ensured  their 
peace,  the  nation,  when  at  last  transported  to  the  very 
Pandemonium  of  idol-worship,  sickened,  as  in  a  mo- 
ment, of  its  inveterate  error,  and  with  a  sudden  and 
final  revulsion  of  heart,  learned  to  loathe  the  very 
names  of  the  gods  of  the  nations.  Singular  revolution ! 
— the  Jew  in  Babylon,  while  losing  the  ancient  and 
sacred  language  of  his  religion — the  language  of  the 
law  and  the  prophets,  and  while  acquiring  in  its  stead 
a  dialect  which,  according  to  the  ordinary  course  of 
human  affairs,  should  have  infected  him  more  deeply 
than  ever  with  polytheistic  notions,  learned  the  true 
sense  of  Moses  and  the  prophets  !  Thus,  in  forgetting 
the  letter  of  Scripture,  he  got  possession  of  its  spirit. 

Become  at  length  devoted  and  sincere  worshippers 
of  the  God  of  their  fathers,  and  punctilious  observers 
of  the  ancient  ritual,  and  now  restored  to  their  city 
and  land,  it  seemed  as  if  the  Jewish  people  was  setting 
out  under  auspicious  circumstances  to  run  that  course 
of  national  obedience  and  consequent  prosperity  which 
should  render  it  a  visible  and  perpetual  witness  in  the 
eye  of  all  nations  for  a  pure  theology.  Now  were 
bright  predictions  to  be  fulfilled,  and  now  was  the 


fi 


ii 


world  to  admire  a  people  loved  of  God — a  royal 
priesthood — an  exemplar  of  wisdom,  virtue,  and 
felicity ! 

So  it  might  have  been  thought ;  but  the  hour  was 
come  for  an  occult  law  of  retribution — a  latent  prin- 
ciple of  the  spiritual  economy,  to  take  eflfect  upon  the 
chosen  race.  Those  who,  age  after  age,  had  con- 
temned the  Divine  promise  of  temporal  prosperity  as 
the  reward  of  religious  obedience,  and  had  so  long 
and  so  perversely  "sinned  against  their  own  mercies," 
were  now  to  be  dealt  with  on  a  different  rule — a  rule 
which  drew  its  reason  from  higher  purposes  than 
heretofore  had  been  regarded.  The  Jewish  people 
were  indeed  at  this  time  willing  to  maintain  the 
honours  of  Jehovah ;  and  they  were  allowed  to  do  so; 
— ^yet  it  must  be  under  the  condition  (for  the  most 
part)  of  tribulation  and  oppression.  The  economy  of 
earthly  benefits  which  had  remained  in  force  under 
Solomon,  Asa,  Jehosaphat,  Hezekiah,  was  superannu- 
ated, and  was  displaced  by  an  economy  of  motives  of 
a  more  elevated  order. — Antiochus  is  suffered  to  try 
the  faith  and  constancy  of  those  whose  faithless  fathers 
had  been  given  into  the  hand  of  Assyrian  and  Baby- 
lonian oppressors. 

This  change  in  the  character  of  events  cannot  be 
contemplated  without  perceiving  that  the  dawn  of  a 
day  of  immortal  hope  was  just  then  breaking  upon  the 
mountains  of  Judaia  ;  a  precursive  trial  was  therefore 
to  be  made  of  that  higher  order  of  things,  and  of  that 
more  perfect  discipline  wherein  the  welfare  of  the  soul 
was  to  take  precedence  of  that  of  the  body — the  spirit- 
ual to  be  preferred  to  the  natural — and  Eternity  to  be 
more  accounted  of  than  Time. 

A  marked,  and  a  correspondent  change  took  place 
at  this  era  of  Jewish  history  in  the  sentiments  of  the 
people,  and  especially  of  their  chiefs.  Instead  of  talk- 
ing exclusively  (as  heretofore)  of  immediate  and  polit- 
ical deliverance,  and  of  national  aggrandizement, 
they  mixed  with  such  secular  hopes,  views  of  a  more 


196 


PANATICISai 


refined  and  prospective  sort.  They  had  gradually 
learned  to  look  through  the  dim  shadows  of  death  for 
the  rewards  of  piety ; — they  turned  their  eye  from  the 
hills  of  Palestine,  and  with  a  steady  courage  endured 
torments  and  met  death — that  they  might  obtain  "  a 
better  resurrection"*  Not  a  less  remarkable  revolu- 
tion of  feeling  was  this  than  that  of  their  final  abandon- 
ment of  polytheism. — It  was  in  truth  a  progression  of 
the  national  mind  ; — and  a  progression  that  involved 
the  remote  and  universal  destinies  of  the  human  fam- 
ily ;  for  in  the  history  and  fate  of  the  race  of  Abraham 
the  history  and  fate  of  all  nations  are  bound  up. 

The  acquisition  of  the  belief  of  a  future  life,  and  of 
its  infinite  rewards  and  punishments  as  a  popular 
dogma,  deepened  and  expanded  to  an  immense  extent 
the  range  of  the  religious  emotions.  The  Jew  of  the 
Asmonean  era  had  become  capable  of  sustaining  a 
part  of  spiritual  heroism  such  as  his  ancestors  of  the 
time  of  David  had  never  thought  of.  The  "  mighty 
threes"f  of  that  pristine  age  were  indeed  valiant  as 
warriors,  and  faithful  too  as  champions  of  the  God  of 
Israel ;  but  Judas  Maccabeus,  his  companions  and  his 
successors,  drew  the  motives  of  their  constancy  from 
considerations  far  more  recondite  and  potent ;  and 
they  fought  and  bled  not  merely  as  soldiers,  but  as 
martyrs."J 

*  2  Mac.  vii.  f  2  Sam.  xxiii. 

I  The  spirit  of  the  Jews  of  this  period,  and  their  religious  opinions, 
are  to  be  learned  much  betterfrom  the  two  books  of  IVlaccabees,  than 
from  the  pohte  pages  of  Josephus,  who  takes  vast  pains  so  to  dress  up 
the  homely  piety  of  his  ancestors  in  hellenic  phrases,  as  should  render 
it  offensive  to  his  Gentile  friends  and  readers.  The  simple  language 
of  faith  and  pious  hope — hope  of  a  better  life,  the  learned  author  of 
the  Antiquities  translates  into  the  dialect  of  Grecian  philosophy  and 
Grecian  heroism.  This  is  especially  to  be  observed  in  the  speeches 
of  the  Jewish  worthies.  With  no  other  materials  than  what  he 
obtained  from  the  books  of  the  Maccabees,  he  expands  and  embel- 
lishes the  simple,  affecting,  and  vigorous  expressions  of  devout 
patriotism  which  he  there  found,  and  is  fain  to  present  his  readers 
with  rhetorical  harangues,  after  the  fashion  of  Thucydides.  The 
same  intention  is  copiously  displayed  in  the  Book  of  the  Government 
of  Reason. 


OF   THE    BANNER. 


197 


It  was  natural,  as  this  expansion  of  the  religious 
notions  of  the  Jews  took  place  under  circumstances  of 
extreme  national  trouble,  and  reached  its  maturity 
while  they  were  struggling  for  their  political  and  reli- 
gious existence,  that  it  should  bring  with  it  those  tu- 
multuary feelings  which  are  provoked,  as  well  in  vulgar 
as  in  noble  minds,  by  witnessing  wanton  violations  of 
sacred  things,  persons,  places,  and  usages.  During 
the  three  centuries  preceding  the  destruction  of  Jeru- 
salem, and  while,  with  transient  intermissions,  this 
nation  of  true  worshippers  was  contending  against  the 
Macedonian,  Syrian,  and  Egyptian  kings,  or  fretting 
under  the  pressure  of  the  Roman  power,  there  was 
going  on  a  slow  accumulation  upon  the  national  mind 
of  those  emotions — intense,  profound,  and  ungoverna- 
ble, which,  after  many  a  portentous  heave,  at  last 
burst  forth  and  spread  an  universal  ruin. 

But  this  progression  of  religious  feeling  passed  be- 
yond its  sound  state  ; — the  ripening  reached  corruption. 
The  people,  while  they  firmly  retained  whatever  was 
acrimonious  in  their  national  ideas,  and  whatever 
might  engender  spiritual  arrogance,  cast  oflf  those  purer 
and  nobler  sentiments  that  had  once  imparted  to  their 
character  the  dignity  and  moderation  of  true  virtue. 
Thus,  although  their  external  allegiance  to  Jehovah, 
the  God  of  Abraham,  remained  irritably  stedfast,  and 
although  they  haughtily  challenged  every  point  of  hon- 
our that  belonged  to  them  as  the  only  depositaries  in 
the  world  of  an  unsullied  religion,  they  renounced 
those  expansive  sentiments,  so  frequently  introduced 
by  the  prophets,  which  have  a  benign  aspect  toward 
all  the  families  of  mankind.* 

♦  Josephus,  who  never  forgets  his  solicitude  to  propitiate  the 
Roman  government,  and  to  conciliate  Gentile  readers,  takes  pains  to 
conceal  that  contempt  which  his  countrymen  indulged  toward  the 
polytheistic  world.  He  even  denies  in  a  formal  manner  that  the 
Jews  allowed  themselves  to  condemn  or  ridicule  other  modes  of 
worship.  "  For  my  own  part,  I  do  not  bring  into  question  other 
■nen's  religious  practices.  In  truth,  it  belongs  to  us  as  a  people  to 
preserve  our  own  usages  j— not  to  inculpate  those  of  other  nations. 

18* 


198 


FANATICISM 


Nor  was  this  all — though  indeed  it  might  have  been 
enough ;  for  the  zealot  nation,  scrupulous  practitioners 
of  whatever  in  the  Mosaic  institutions  tended  to  insu- 
late them  from  the  community  of  mankind,  loaded 
those  institutions  with  offensive  exaggerations  ;  and 
moreover  to  a  great  extent  superseded  the  genuine 
precepts  of  the  Pentateuch  by  a  comment  and  tradi- 
tion abominably  perverse.  So  it  was  that  the  whole 
repulsive  rigidity  of  sectarism  wrapped  them  about  as 
a  garment ;  while  they  held  few  or  none  of  the  com- 
pensations of  a  purer  morality.  At  once,  and  in  an 
extreme  degree,  sanctimonious  and  debauched,  the 
Jews  (of  the  Christian  era)  were  in  that  very  state 
which,  more  than  any  other,  is  liable  to  pass  into  vio- 
lence. Who  so  furious  and  rabid  as  the  scrupulous, 
immoral  religionist,  heated  by  a  sense  of  injury  and 
insult  ? 

One  element  more,  and  only  one  remained  to  fit  the 
Jewish  people  for  the  terrible  part  they  were  to  act  in 
bringing  on  the  catastrophe  of  the  state.  This  was 
the  spirit  of  faction,  and  this  they  had  admitted  to  the 
full.  The  rise  of  the  rancour  of  religious  strife  is  a 
subject  too  extensive  to  be  entered  upon  in  this  place ; 
but  it  is  one  that  might  well  claim  deliberate  attention ; 
and  the  more  so,  because  these  virulent  and  peculiar 
feelings  which  seemed  for  the  first  time  to  break  out 
upon  human  nature  about  a  century  before  the  birth  of 
Christ,  have  ever  since  (and  to  the  present  day)  kept 
their  place,  and  have  had  a  great  share  in  determining 
the  course  of  events  throughout  Christendom.  At 
present  it  may  suffice  to  advert  to  the  fact  that,  at  the 
time  we  are  speaking  of,  the  bosom  of  almost  every 

And  our  legislator  expressly  forbade  our  either  ridiculing  or  defaming 
those  whom  the  nations  around  us  regard  as  divinities." — Against 
ApioHy  b.  2.  This  was  a  bold  assertion,  and  one  which  his  adversary 
might  have  easily  refuted.  Are  not  the  gods  of  the  heathen  con- 
temptuously handled  by  David  and  the  prophets  ?  and  are  not  the 
worshippers  of  stocks  and  stones  declared  to  be  stupid  and  absurd  ? 
This  scorn  of  idols  and  idolaters  had  increased,  not  diminished,  among 
the  Jews, 


OF   THE    BANNER. 


199 


Jew  beside  the  common  malevolence  or  murky  pride 
which  then  characterized  the  race,  harboured  a  still 
more  definite  and  vivid  animosity  against  some  rival 
party :  each  mind,  while  revolving  around  the  one 
gloomy  centre  of  national  feeling,  revolved  also  about 
the  centre  of  its  sect.  Unhappy  people,  thus  to  exist 
and  move  in  an  element  of  hatred,  at  once  diffusive 
and  condensed.* 

Such  were  the  pungent  sentiments  which  prepared 
the  Jewish  people  for  the  horrors  of  its  catastrophe. 
Then  there  was  added  to  these  feelings  a  specific  and 
extraordinary  excitement,  which  gave  intensity  to 
every  passion  of  a  political  or  religious  sort. — This 
was  tfie  fond,  and  now  desperate  expectation,  of  the  ap- 
pearance of  their  Messiah. 

The  two  principles,  namely,  the  belief  a  future  life, 
with  its  rewards  and  punishments,  and  the  hope  of  na- 
tional deliverance  and  universal  empire  under  the  con- 
duct of  the  promised  Son  of  David,  had  kept  pace  one 
with  the  other  and  both  had  gradually  become  more 
and  more  distinct,  had  mingled  more  in  the  popular  sen- 
timents, and  had  settled  into  familiar  forms  of  expres- 
sion, so  that  what,  in  the  remoter  times  was  a  mystery, 
or  an  esoteric  doctrine — conserved  by  seers,  and  hid- 
den under  symbols,  had  now  reached  the  populace, 
and  was  in  every  mouth.  The  hope  of  redemption 
under  the  Messiah,  which  existed  in  a  warm  and  natu- 
ral state  at  the  time  of  the  advent  of  Him  who  was 
indeed  the  Lord's  Christ,  underwent  a  pernicious  rev- 
ulsion from  the  disappointment  that  ensued  when  the 
Son  of  Mary  was  rejected.  Pious  desire  turned  then 
into  a  wild  and  frenzied  wistfulness — the  prey  of  every 

♦When  he  refers  to  the  factions  that  distracted  the  Jewish 
people,  Josephus  employs  the  strongest  terms  which  language  affords. 
—"One  might  justly  say  sedition  grew  upon  sedition  ;  or  the  state 
might  bo  compared  to  a  rabid  beast  that,  in  want  of  sustenance  from 
without,  rends  and  devours  its  own  entrails."  T t  rtfkiKourov ,  ex- 
claims the  historian,  a  rXr^f^-oytTrcLTT}  ttqXk;^  Treirov^ecg  usro  *Vetf4r 
aiMiy  01  (rev  Tec  s^/a^vMcc  //,d(fi]  7ripixx6apoZvr£i  cis^Pi^ov. 


200 


FANATICISM 


delusion.  The  articulate  language  of  prophecy — the 
awakened  expectations  of  mankind  at  large,  and  the 
portents  of  the  times  all  concurred  to  fix,  beyond  mis- 
take, the  then  passing  years  as  the  destined  era  of 
deliverance. — Scripture  and  the  comments  upon  it, 
marked  almost  the  moment . — while  the  events  of  the 
age,  the  balancings  of  human  affairs,  declared  the  times 
to  be  fultilled.  Yet  these  years  hastened  on,  and  no 
Saviour — no  Saviour  from  Gentile  tyranny,  appeared. 
In  the  interim  the  sacrilegious  foreign  power  ad- 
vanced every  day  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  sanc- 
tuary of  God.  Unutterable  profanations  had  been 
threatened,  and  even  perpetrated : — but  a  little  more, 
and  the  very  heart  of  the  Israelitish  polity  must  receive 
a  fatal  wound.  Yet  the  heavens  were  not  rent — 
Jehovah  and  his  Anointed  stood  afar  from  the  help  of 
his  inheritance. — Must  it  not  be  to  try  the  constancy 
of  Israel  to  the  extremest  point,  and  to  enhance  the 
arrogance  of  the  oppressor  to  tlie  highest  degree ;  so 
that,  on  the  one  side,  the  coming  deliverance  should  be 
the  more  welcome,  and  on  the  other,  the  vengeance  so 
much  the  more  signal  ?  Doubtless  God  would,  at  the 
last,  visit  his  chosen  people.  Suddenly,  and  in  the 
blaze  of  his  power  would  he  descend  to  his  temple, 
unfurl  on  the  heights  of  Zion  the  Banner  of  his  love 
and  wrath  ;  and  thence  advancing,  followed  by  the 
tribes  of  Jacob,  would  go  forth — King  of  kings,  to 
trample  on  the  necks  of  all  mankind.* 


♦Josephus,  from  obvious  motives  of  policy,  draws  a  veil  over  the 
subject  of  the  hope  his  countrymen  entertained  of  a  Prince  and 
Deliverer  who  should  rule  the  world.  To  have  given  its  just  promi- 
nence to  this  theme  would  have  been  highly  dangerous  both  to  him- 
self and  to  his  people.  His  allusion  to  it  is  brief  and  cautious,  and  is 
accompanied  by  a  comment  designed  to  exclude  all  suspicion.  "  But 
what  chiefly  incited  the  Jews  to  the  war  was  an  ambiguous  prediction 
;cp»jrffco$  afj(.<p'\^oXoq^  found  in  their  sacred  writings,  the  purport  of 
wnich  was,  that,  about  that  time  some  one  of  their  country  should 
rule  the  world.  This  prediction  they  appropriated  to  their  own  race; 
and  many  of  their  Rabbis  were  led  astray  by  the  interpretation.  In 
truth  the  oracle  pointed  to  Vespasian,  who  was  declared  Emperor  in 
Judaea."— Dc  BeUo  Jud.  L.  VI.  c.  12.    If  this  were  indeed  the  "  chief 


OF   THE   BANNER. 


201 


Fond,  and  yet  not — as  it  seemed,  irrational  hope  ! 
Proof  could  be  advanced  in  support  of  every  portion 
of  this  vast  conception.  No  expectation  comparable 
to  this — none  so  great,  so  bright  and  at  the  same  time 
so  distinct,  had  ever  been  indulged  by  any  people  :  no 
analogous  instance  stands  upon  the  records  of  history : 
an  ambition  so  dazzling  was  known  only  to  the  Jew. 
and  this  hope  had  been  rendered  the  more  vigorous  by 
compression  ; — the  weight  of  all  visible  probabilities 
weighed  it  down  ; — nothing  less  than  the  Power  of 
Rome,  with  all  her  legions,  bore  upon  the  expectation 
of  Israel — and  yet  did  not  crush  it.  Juda3a  against 
the  world  :  no,  rather  God  and  his  Messiah,  against 
the  potsherds  of  the  earth  ! 

Often  must  it  have  happened  to  the  haughty  Jew 
to  gaze,  in  sinister  contempt,  upon  the  military  pomp 
of  the  Empire  (at  Rome  or  in  the  provinces)  and  to 
meditate  the  hour  when  all  this  splendour  should  fade 
before  the  throne  and  car  of  the  Messiah. — Yes,  many 
a  time  had  he  brooded  upon  the  thought  that  Rome 
and  her  pride  should  ere  long  lie  in  the  dust  at  the 
gate  of  Jerusalem  ;  and  suppliants  from  the  capitol 
kiss  the  feet  of  the  princes  of  Zion  1 

How  then  shall  we  measure  the  desperation  or  the 
rage  when  a  hope  so  ancient  and  so  vast  was  drawing 
to  its  crisis  ?  At  length  a  terrible  surmise  stole  upon 
the  dismayed  heart  of  the  people ; — that  the  very 
foundations  of  their  belief  were  illusory  !  The  dark 
consummation  which  this  wretched  people,  now 
hemmed  in  by  an  irresistible  enemy,  had  to  fear,  was 
not  the  famine  and  thirst  of  a  seige,  or  massacres  within 
their  walls,  or  the  carnage  to  be  expected  from  the 
irritated  legions ; — it  was  not  the  overthrow  of  their 
city,  the  ruin  of  their  temple,  the  devastation  of  their 

incentive"  of  the  war,  it  doubtless  held  a  much  larger  place  in  the 
sentiments  and  harangues  of  the  people  and  their  leaders  than  appears 
from  the  narrative  of  the  historian. — Josephus  knew  more  of  this 
"  ambiguous  prophecy,"  and  of  its  mighty  influence  over  the  national 
feehngs,  than  he  thought  it  prudent  to  avow. 


202 


FANATICISM 


land,  the  extinction  of  the  race; — a  worse  catastrophe 
was  before  them :  nothing  less  than  a  plunge  into  the 
bottomless  gulf  of  atheism  : — it  was  the  death  of  a  na- 
tion's soul  that  was  at  hand.  If  indeed  at  the  last  the 
promise  should  fail,  if  the  Gentile  sword  should  be 
suffered  to  cut  off  root  and  branch  of  the  people  of 
Abraham,  what  then  were  the  Scriptures — what  Moses 
and  the  Prophets — what  Sinai  and  its  thunders — what 
the  long  series  of  signs  and  miracles  which  had  con- 
veyed to  this  people,  and  to  this  alone,  a  genuine  faith 
in  one  God  ?  Bv  a  false  concatenation  of  inferences, 
the  religious  convictions  of  the  Jewish  people,  the 
whole  of  their  belief  of  things  unseen,  was  made  to 
hang  upon  the  event  of  the  siege  of  the  holy  city.  Let 
but  the  abominable  signals  of  the  Roman  legions  be 
planted  upon  the  walls  of  the  temple,  and  then  Israel, 
carrying  with  him  all  his  hopes — the  anticipated  splen- 
dours of  time,  and  the  glories  of  eternity,  must  leap 
from  the  height  into  the  shoreless  abyss  of  despair ! 

Under  the  pressure  of  emotions  so  supernatural  and 
extreme,  if  more  could  have  been  endured  by  man 
than  was  then  suffered,  or  more  effected  than  was 
performed,  it  had  actually  been  sustained  and  done. 
The  feeling  of  the  people  was  far  more  profound  than 
that  it  should  measure  itself  against  any  pains  or  dan- 
gers mortality  can  undergo.  The  visible  and  sensible 
woe  of  the  siege  did  but  faintly  symbolize  the  convul- 
Bive  anguish  of  every  Jewish  heart.  It  was  as  when 
a  guilt-stricken  wretch  approaching  his  last  hour, 
though  torn  by  the  pangs  of  death,  forgets  the  wrench 
of  bodily  pain  in  the  torment  of  the  soul ; — the  writh- 
ing of  the  limbs,  the  contortions  of  the  features,  the 
livid  hue,  the  glare  of  the  eye,  the  sighs,  the  groans, 
are  imperfect  expressions  only  of  the  misery  and  terror 
of  the  spirit. 

To  attribute  an  absolute  authenticity  to  the  long 
and  elaborate  speeches  which  the  Jewish  historian 
puts  into  the  mouth  of  the  chiefs  of  the  factions  would 
\>e  idle ;  and  especially  so  where,  according  to  hia 


OP   THE    BANNER. 


203 


own  account,  all  or  most  of  those  who  were  actually 
present  on  the  occasion  soon  afterwards  perished. 
Nevertheless  there  is  a  sense  in  which  these  harano^ues 
deserve  attention  ;  for  Josephus,  familiarly  acquainted 
as  he  was  with  the  sentiments  of  his  countrymen,  and 
with  their  style  of  thinking,  no  doubt  adhered  to 
dramatic  truth  in  composing  these  orations,  and  would 
assign  to  the  speakers  language  proper  to  the  character 
of  the  persons.  Although  graced  with  not  a  few 
Grecian  turns,  the  matter  of  these  compositions  is  un- 
questionably national.  Nay,  it  may  be  granted  as 
probable  that  broken  portions  of  an  actual  address, 
on  some  signal  occasion,  were  reported,  and  had  come 
to  the  knowledge  of  the  historian.  By  the  same  rule 
It  is  acknowledged  that  while  the  speeches  of  Roman 
Generals  and  Senators,  as  given  by  Livy,  are  Livy's 
speeches,  they  may  still  be  regarded,  although  fictiti- 
ous m  a  strict  or  historical  sense,  as  authentic  and 
characteristic  examples  of  Roman  feeling. 

With  this  caution  in  view,  it  is  a  matter  of  some 
curiosity  to  examine  the  harangues  of  those  of  the 
Jewish  leaders  who  survived  the  destruction  of  the 
city,  and  whose  fate  it  was  to  receive  in  their  persons 
the  last  strokes  of  Roman  vengeance.  Supposing  it 
to  float  somewhere  between  truth  and  fiction— true* in 
elements— fictitious  in  form,  the  address  of  Eleazar, 
chief  of  the  Assassins,  to  his  companions,  when  shut 
up  m  Masada,*  and  unable  longer  to  hold  out  against 
the  Romans,  may  be  adduced  as  a  highly  characteristic 
exhibition  of  the  ultimate,  or  fallen  and  melancholic 
stage  of  martial  fanaticism.  With  the  extinction  of 
the  specific  hope  whence  it  had  sprung,  the  heat  and 
vivacity  of  the  feeling  had  passed  away,  leaving  only 
Its  desperation :— the  fury  is  gone,  but  not  the  folly. 

♦  A  precipitous  and  strongly  fortified  height,  overlooking  the  nor- 
Wem  extremity  of  the  Dead  Sea.  The  Maccabees  first,  and  afterwards 
■tlerod,  had  constructed  on  this  hill-top  what  was  deemed  an  impreg* 
nable  fortress.  As  such  it  had  been  always  held  by  the  latter  in  a 
state  of  readiness  to  serve  hira  as  a  place  of  refuge  in  the  event  of  a 
rebellion. 


204 


FANATICISM 


The  once  boisterous  passion  assumes  even  something 
of  the  serenity  of  good  sense  ;  but  yet  entirely  wants 
the  consistency  of  true  wisdom.  So  terrible  a  commo- 
tion of  the  soul  of  a  people  could  not  instantly  subside ; 
and  a  while  after  the  roaring  of  the  storm  is  hushed, 
the  billows  continue  to  fling  their  huge  masses  sullenly 
upon  the  shore. 

The  secular  hope  of  national  deliverance  and  mili- 
tary glory  was  that  which  had  inspired  the  constancy 
of  the  people  up  to  the  moment  when  they  beheld 
their  temple  in  flames ;  but  then,  of  necessity,  their 
ill-placed  confidence  dissolved. — It  was  that  very  tem- 
ple which  should  have  received  the  Messiah  : — that 
building,  as  they  firmly  believed,  no  power  in  earth  or 
heaven  could  overthrow  ;  for  it  was  destined  to  endure 
to  the  consummation  of  all  things.  But  the  temple 
was  now  actually  levelled  to  the  ground : — the  peo- 
ple's hope  disappeared  also,  and  with  it,  as  we  cannot 
doubt,  the  religious  faith  of  multitudes  of  those  who 
perished  in  the  carnage  that  followed. — In  that  last 
hour  of  anguish  did  not  many  a  warm  Pharisaic  heart 
become  suddenly  cold  with  Sadducean  despair? — Yet 
others  there  were  whose  feelings  underwent  a  revul- 
sion, and  in  whom  when  the  worldly  seduction  had  lost 
its  power,  the  better  religious  sentiment  would  regain 
its  influence.  So  (if  we  may  regard  as  in  any  sense 
genuine  the  last  and  fatal  discourse  of  Eleazar)  was  it 
with  that  desperate  leader. 

"Such,  brave  comrades,  such  is  our  immemorial 
resolution,  that  to  God  alone — the  true  and  righteous 
Lord  of  men,  homage  is  to  be  rendered  ;  and  that 
neither  from  the  Romans,  nor  from  any  other  earthly 
power,  is  servitude  to  be  endured.  The  day  is  now 
come  in  which  we  are  called  upon  to  seal  our  profes- 
sion by  our  deeds  ; — unless  we  be  ourselves  unwor- 
thy of  that  profession.  And  this  is  certain,  that  if  the 
servitude  we  have  in  past  times  submitted  to  was 
grievous,  what  awaits  us,  should  we  fall  alive  into  the 
hands  of  the  Roman,  will  be  aggravated  by  intolerable 


OP   THE    BANNER. 


205 


torments.—Were  not  we  (the  Sicarii)  the  first  to 
revolt  ?— are  we  not  also  the  last  to  resist  ?  I  hold  it 
then  to  be  a  special  grace  of  Heaven,  to  us  acorded, 
that  we  possess  as  v/e  do  at  this  time,  the  means  of 
dying  honourably  and  free,  while  others  of  our  nation, 
betrayed  by  their  fallacious  hopes,  enjoyed  no  such 
option. 

"  No  one  can  now  doubt  that  to-morrow's  sun  must 
see  this  fortress  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  But  there 
remains  to  us  the  undisputed  choice  of  a  noble  death  ; 
and  a  death  in  the  arms  of  those  most  dear  to  us. — 
No,  ardently  as  he  desires  to  take  us  alive,  he  is  as 
unable  to  deprive  us  of  this  choice,  as  we  are  to  resist 
him  in  the  field.  Resist  the  Roman  in  the  field  !  no, 
this  we  should  long  ago,  and  from  the  first  of  our 
revolt  have  understood,  when  peradventure  it  might 
have  availed  us  to  know  it,  that  the  Divine  irrevocable 
decree  has  sealed  our  destruction  as  a  people.  The 
Jewish  race,  once  so  dear  to  God,  He  has  consigned 
to  perdition.  Do  we  want  proof  of  the  fact ;— let  us 
look  to  the  site  of  the  sacred  city,  at  this  moment 
smoking  in  its  ruins,  and  strewed  with  the  bodies  of 
thousands  of  the  people. 

"And  now,  my  companions,  indulge  not  any  such 
presumption  as  if  we,  who  hitherto  have  escaped  the 
common  ruin,  were  not  sharers  in  the  common  guilt ; 
and  might  yet  evade  the  universal  sentence  that  is  to 
annihilate  the  race.  Look  about  you,  and  see  how 
God  himself  has  been  stripping  us  of  the  vain  hope 
we  had  clung  to.  What  avails  us  the  possession  of 
this  inaccessible  fortress  ?  what  the  abundance  of  pro- 
visions, and  our  ample  stock  of  weapons  ?— God's  out- 
stretched arm  has  rent  from  us  our  fond  conceit  of 
safety.  Think  you  that  the  flames  yesterday,  which 
at  first  bore  upon  the  enemy,  did  of  their  own  accord 
suddenly  turn  round  upon  our  newly-raised  defences  ? 
No,  this  reverting  fire  was  blown  by  Almighty  wrath — 
the  punishment  of  our  presumption  ;  and  we  find  that 

19 


-.^^ 


206 


FANATICISM 


t!ie  vengeance  of  God,  provoked  by  our  sins,  is  more 
inexorable  than  even  the  malice  of  the  Romans. 

"  Already  therefore  doomed,  as  we  are,  by  God — 
let  us  die  :---die — our  wives  exempt  from  abuse — our 
children  unknowing  bondage ;  and  then,  these  deliv- 
ered by  our  hands,  we  shall  have  only  to  discharge, 
one  for  another,  a  generous  office  and  mutually  ensure 
the  death  and  sepulture  of  freemen  ?  Our  treasures  we 
will  consume. — How  will  the  Roman  vex  to  be  de- 
frauded at  once  of  our  persons  and  of  our  wealth  ;  both 
of  which  he  thinks  his  prey  1  Yes,  but  we  w^ill  leave 
him  our  stock  of  food — an  evidence  that  we  were  not 
urged  by  famine,  but  that  from  the  impulse  of  a  steady 
purpose,  we  had  preferred  death  to  slaver^'." 

Thus,  says  the  historian,  spoke  Eleazar.*  But  many 
of  his  auditors  quavered.  Some  indeed  met  the  ardour 
of  their  chief  with  a  kindred  resolution,  and  would  at 
once  have  given  it  effect.  Others,  held  by  the  tender- 
ness of  nature,  and  gazing  upon  their  wives  and  chil- 
dren, doomed  thus  to  die,  burst  into  tears,  and  refused 
assent  to  the  fatal  resolution.  The  leader  beheld  with 
anxiety  their  trepidation,  fearing  lest  it  might  shake 
even  the  more  courageous,  and  disappoint  his  design. 
— As  if  inspired  with  high  thoughts,  his  eyes  fixed,  and 
in  energetic  tones,  he  again  addressed  the  crowd,  bring- 
ing before  them  the  brightness  of  immortality. 

"  Was  I  deceived  then  in  believing  that  the  brave 
had  rather  die  than  live  dishonoured  '(  Comrades,  do 
you  fear  to  die  even  to  escape  evils  worse  than  death? 
In  an  extremity  like  this  ye  should  neither  hesitate, 
nor  want  a  prompter.  But  let  me  remind  you  of  that 
which  from  childhood  we  have  learned — which  our 


*  The  historian's  method  of  expanding  immensely  his  materials,  is 
ehewn  by  a  comparison  of  the  succinct  speeches  reported  in  the  Book 
of  Alaccabees,  with  the  elaborate  orations  that  cnibellish  his  work. 
In  the  present  instance  a  license  of  abridgmeot  and  compression  is 
freely  used,  the  result  of  which  may  perhaps  be  a  nearer  approach  to 
historic  truth.  So  long  a  discourse  as  that  which  Josephus  attributes 
to  Eleazar  (occupying  live  folio  pages)  would  certainly  not  have  been 
uttered  or  listened  to,  under  such  circumstances. 


OF   THE    BANNER. 


207 


fathers  and  the  sacred  writings  teach,  and  which  our 
ancestors  have  so  often  authenticated  by  their  deeds 
— that  it  is  life,  rather  than  death,  which  should  be 
thought  of  as  calamitous.*  Death,  is  it  not  the  Liber- 
ator of  souls  ?  does  it  not  dismiss  them  to  the  pure 
abodes  where  none  of  the  ill  chances  of  mortality  can 
enter?  So  long  as  we  are  bound  to  this  mortal  frame, 
and  liable  to  the  evils  it  inherits,  our  life  is  but  a  death. 
Oh  unworthy  alliance  of  the  divine  essence  with  a 
fabric  that  must  die  !  Organ  of  the  soul's  power  and 
will,  yet  does  the  body  weigh  it  down  to  earth,  from 
which  freed,  it  soars  to  its  native  region ; — regains  a 
blessed  and  un!)ounded  liberty,  and  like  God  him- 
self, evades  the  sight  of  mortals.  Yes,  unseen  does  it 
enter  the  body  ;  and  unseen  depart — a  pure  and  un- 
mingled  essence  ; — yet  potent — the  cause  of  life,  and 
itself  immortal.  Witness  the  independence  and  ac- 
tivity of  the  soul  in  sleep,  when  discharged  for  a  while 
from  the  warfare  of  flesh,  it  enjoys  its  proper  delights, 
and  taking  the  privilege  of  its  affinity  to  God,  freely 
pervades  all  places,  and  even  penetrates  futurity ! 

"  With  what  reason  then  can  we  fear  to  die,  who 
court  the  refreshment  of  sleep  ?  Preposterous  surely 
for  ihose  to  grudge  themselves  perpetual  freedom, 
who  prefer  liberty  to  any  other  of  the  goods  of  life  ! 
This  readiness  to  put  off  mortality  we,  as  Jews,  ought 
especially  to  exhibit ;  or  if  indeed  we  must  go  to  learn 
such  a  lesson  from  strangers,  let  us  look  to  those 
Indian  sages  who  loathingly  live  a  while  to  fulfil  the 
purposes  of  nature,  and  hasten  to  die  that  they  may 
shake  off  the  ills  of  animal  existence.  None  hinder 
them  in  their  purpose ;  none  lament  their  exit ;   but 

♦  If  this  speech  he  regarded  as  nothing  more  than  the  composition 
of  Josephus,  it  will  not  the  less  serve  to  prove  a  fact,  important  in  its 
bearings — That  a  distinct  belief  of  immortahty — a  belief  far  more 
distinct  than  appears  on  the  face  of  the  canonical  prophetic  writings, 
had  long  been  entertained  among  the  Jews,  and  had  constituted  a 
main  article  of  that  body  of  tradition,  which,  rather  than  the  Script- 
ure??, governed  the  opinions,  the  sentiments,  and  the  practices  of  the 
nation. 


208 


FANATICISM 


rather  account  them  happy,  and  commit  to  their  hand 
epistles  of  love  to  their  kindred  in  the  skies.  Gladly 
do  they  ascend  the  pyre  where  all  the  grossness  of 
tTie  body  is  to  disappear.  Shall  we  then — better 
taught  as  we  are  than  they,  be  less  prompt  to  urge 
our  course  to  immortality  ?  This  were  indeed  a 
shame. 

"  But  even  if  we  had  been  taught  to  think  the 
present  life  the  chief  good,  and  death  the  greatest 
evil,  it  would  still  be  certain,  that,  placed  as  we  are, 
we  should  manfully  meet  our  fate  ;  since,  as  well  the 
will  of  God,  as  the  necessity  of  the  moment,  com- 
mands us  to  die.  Believe  it,  countrymen,  that  long 
ago  heaven  sealed  the  fatal  decree  which  none  of  the 
Jewish  race  can  evade,  and  which  consigns  us — guilty 
as  we  have  been,  to  utter  extinction.  Our  nation  has 
fallen,  not  by  the  power  of  Rome — not  even  by  our 
errors  in  conducting  the  war ; — no,  a  stronger  hand 
has  crushed  us — we  perish  beneath  the  stroke  of  the 
Almighty  ! 

"  Time  w^ould  fail  me  if  I  were  to  recount  the 
many  signal  instances  in  which,  contrary  to  all  proba- 
bility, and  even  against  or  beyond  the  intention  of  our 
enemies,  we  have  fallen  the  victims  of  Divine  ven- 
geance.— Or  when  any  of  our  race  has  escaped 
immediate  carnage,  who  would  not  deplore  their  lot 
as  far  more  grievous  ;  who  would  not  rather  die  than 
endure  what  such  have  suffered  ? — Some,  torn  of  the 
lash ;  some,  tormented  with  fire  ;  some,  half  eaten  of 
beasts,  and  rescued,  to  be  thrown  to  them  ali^  for  a 
second  repast !  Or  were  they  permitted  to  live  ?  yes,, 
but  only  to  be  made  the  sport  of  their  adversaries. 
How  do  those  now^  desire  to  die  who  are  yet  compelled 
to  breathe ! — 

"  — Alas !  where  now  is  that  city  of  ours,  the 
mother-city  of  Juda,*  where — with  her  many  circling 
ramparts — her  lofty  towers  and  castles; — where,  filled 

*  Philo,  Legat.  ad  Caium,  well  calls  Jerusalem,  not  the  metropolian 
of  one  land,  Judcea  only,  but  of  many. 


OP   THE    BANNER. 


209 


as  she  was  with  the  means  of  war,  and  crowded  with 
myriads  of  valiant  men,  eager  to  defend  tier  !  What 
has  become  of  the  city  which  we  fondly  believed  to 
be  the  abode /if  God? — Rased  to  the  ground  I  nothing 
now  marks  the  spot  wliere  once  stood  Jerusalem ; — 
nothing  but  the  tents  of  her  destroyer  !  Ah,  and  you 
may  find  there,  as  relics  of  the  Jewish  [>eople,  some 
miserable  ancients,  seated  in  the  dust; — or  a  few 
women,  reserved  to  dishonour. 

"  Which  of  us  then,  even  if  he  could  do  so  unhurt, 
should  endure  to  behold  another  sun  ?  Who  is  there 
so  false  to  his  country- — who  so  imbecile — who  so 
ohary  of  life,  that  does  not  vex  to  have  survived  so 
long  as  this  ?  Would  we  had  aJl  died  ratl*er  than 
have  seen  the  Holy  City  rased  by  the  axe  of  the 
enemy — and  the  Temple,  with  horrible  impiety,  up- 
heaved from  its  foundations  !  Our  souJs,  indeed,  ha%'e 
lately  been  fed  by  the  generous  hope  of  speedily 
avenging  the  fall  of  otir  city  upon  the  ibe.*  But  that 
hope  now  vanishes,  and  leaves  us  no  option: — let  us 
rush  then  upon  an  unsullied  death.  Let  us  have  pity 
upon  ourselves — upon  our  wives — upoo  our  chikinen, 
while  yet  we  have  the  power  to  do  so.  Deatli  indeed 
all  m«st  undergo; — i>ut  oot  iuj«uries,  bonds,  insults; — 
or  not  unless  our  cow;irdice  drives  us  to  meet  these 
greater  evils.  And  what  evils  are  they  ? — Jvlate  with 
confidence,  we  at  first  defi<^d  the  Roman  power: — 
once  and  again  we  have  scorned  the  proffered  terras 
of  our  exasperated  enemy ; — dare  we  think  then  of 
his  rage  if  he  take  us  living?  W^retcl^ed  sliall  tbe 
younger  of  us  be  whose  strength  lasts  out  longer 
torment !  wretdied  the  elders  w-iio  liave  no  power  to 
sustain  the  trial!  One  shall  see  his  wife  led  away  to 
suffer  ♦  ioleiice ;  another,  with  his  arms  bound,  shaJi 
hear  the  cries  of  a  son,  vainly  imploring  a  father's  aid 
• — ^No,  this  shall  oot  be: — ^now — now  are  our  hands 


a  highly  significant  phrase. 

19* 


210 


FANATICISM 


free ;  now  are  our  swords  our  own : — let  tliem  tberr 
do  for  Qs  the  kindly  office  !  Free  from  the  thrall  of 
our  enemies,  we  die  ; — free  with  our  wives  and  chil- 
dren we  launch  from  life.  Our  law  enjoins  the  deed ; 
— our  wives  and  our  children  implore  this  grace  at 
our  hands  ;  God  himself  throws  the  necessity  upon  us. 
The  Roman  would  fain  prevent  it,  and  is  all  alarm 
lest  any  of  us  sliould  |>erish  before  he  can  scale  our 
defences. — We  hasten  then  to  offer  to  him,  instead  of 
his  desired  revenge,  amazement  at  the  boldness  of  our 
death.'' 

All  started  up  as  if  seized  with  frenzy,  or  possessed 
with  demons,  to  give  instant  effect  to  the  advice  of 
their  chief. — Each  man  embraced  his  wife — his  child, 
and  in  the  midst  of  fond  kisses — his  arm  unknowing 
what  it  did,  gave  the  fatal  plunge.  Each  tlwught  a 
moment  of  the  miseries  from  which  that  stroke 
redeemed  his  loved  companion  and  progeny ;  and  all, 
without  exception,  dared  the  horrid  act.  Pitiable  fate 
of  men  to  whom  it  seemed  the  least  of  evils  thus  to 
make  a  carnage  of  their  women  and  babes  !  The 
husbands  and  fathers,  feeling  as  if  every  moment  they 
now  survived  was  an  injury  done  to  the  dead,  hurried 
on  what  was  yet  to  be  effected.  Fire  was  put  to 
whatever  the  fortress  contained.  Ten  of  the  sur- 
vivors, chosen  by  lot,  fell  upon  their  companions: 
every  man  in  dying  embraced  the  bloody  remains  of 
his  own. — One  then  chosen  from  the  ten,  slays  the 
nine,  and  he,  taking  a  last  look  around  to  ascertain 
that  the  work  of  death  was  complete,  rushed  on  his 
sword. 

There  is  yet  a  form  of  popular  fury  which  ought 
here  to  find  a  place,  although  its  peculiarity  may  seem 
to  disconnect  it  with  any  other  kind. — We  mean  the 
atheistic  fanaticism  when  it  affects  a  community,  and 
impels  it  to  assault  every  mode  of  worship  with  intent 
to  exterminate  religious  profession.  Of  this  dire 
infatuation  modern  times  have  given  us  an  example — 
the  first  in  the  history  of  mankind  i — may  it  be  ths 
last! 


or   THE    BANNER. 


211 


Atheism,  when  it  spreads  among  a  people  in  the 
form  of  an  active  and  positive  opinion — vauntingly 
professed  and  eagerly  disseminated,  is  something  very 
different  from  ordinary  irreligion,  or  reckless  and 
profligate  impiety;  and  it  will  be  found  to  display 
each  well  known  characteristic  of  a  virulent  religious 
creed  : — it  is  in  truth  nothing  else  than  a  heresy ;  and 
the  proselyting  Atheist,  how  much  soever  his  pride 
may  resent  the  imputation,  is  a  mere  zealot ; — yes, 
and  a  zealot  surpassing  others  in  blind  malignancy. 
Is  the  bigot  religionist  dogmatical,  acrimonious,  impu- 
dent ? — is  he  a  demagogue,  and  a  noisy  predicator  of 
monstrous  paradoxes  ?  Just  such  is  the  Atheist.  And 
if  the  one  readily  seizes  the  occasion  to  act  the  perse- 
cutor, and  to  dip  his  hands  in  blood,  so,  as  we  have 
found,  does  the  other. 

An  opinion  that  attaches  only  to  scattered  individ- 
uals, displays  nothing  more  than  a  sample  of  its 
genuine  properties :  but  let  it  affect  large  masses  of  a 
people,  or  take  possession  of  a  community,  and  then 
its  real  qualities  come  into  play.  Every  age  has 
produced  a  few  petulant  sophists,  who  would  fain 
persuade  themselves  and  the  world  that  they  had  at 
length  rid  their  natures  of  the  very  rudiments  of 
belief,  and  that  they  held  nothing  to  exist  which  could 
not  be  handled  and  seen,  tasted  or  smelt.  But  an 
affectation  so  extreme  does  not  readily  overthrow  the 
common  sense  of  mankind  at  large  ;  nor  would  it  ever 
do  so  without  the  aid  of  peculiar  and  accidental  incite- 
ments of  a  political  kind.  In  fact  all  imaginable  forms 
of  monstrous  error  had  been  turned  up  in  the  chances 
of  four  thousand  years  before  this  of  national  Atheism 
— more  monstrous  than  any,  made  its  appearance. 
That  the  great  body  of  an  instructed  people  should 
yield  itself  a  prey  to  the  madness  of  Atheism,  and 
should  deliberately  endeavour  to  rear  the  social  struc- 
ture upon  the  site  whence  every  vestige  of  worship 
and  religious  fear  had  been  removed,  was  indeed  a 
novelty  that  would  not  have  been  reckoned  among 
things  possible,  or  in  any  degree  likely  to  take  place. 


212 


FANATICISM 


M 


14 


Yet    the    French    revolutionary    frenzy    actually 
reached  this  pitch ;  and  it  is  well  remembered  what 
was  the  temper  of  this  last  prodigy  of  the  human 
mind,   when    it    burst    the    shell.      Its   parents    had 
announced  that  it  would  be  rational,  just,  and  mode- 
rate, as  the  beautiful  creature  of  Philosophy ;  but  it 
instantly  proved  itself  to  be  rabid  and  blocni-thirsty 
like  an  otfspring  of  the  Furies  ?     As  the  Atheism  of 
the  philosophers  would  not  have  spread  over  the  land, 
unaided  by  political  impulses,  so  neither  would  the 
political    passions   that   attended    the   course   of    the 
revolution,  alo*ie  have  sustained,  and  for  so  long  a 
time,    that    sanguinaiy    exasperation    which    raged 
through   France   year  after   year :    and   in   fact   the 
massacres  and  tlie  executions  of  the  republican  era 
were,  in   almost  every  instance,  hurried   on    by  an 
embittered  hatred  of  whatever  appertained  to  religion : 
—  legends  of  blasphemy  were  inscribed  on  all  the 
banners  of  bkxxl.    The  civil  war  was  a  crusade  against 
God ;  and  those  who  at  the  commencement  had  pro- 
fessed it  to  be  their  aml)ition  to  blot  out  the  name  of 
Christ,  were  borne  along  by  the  impulse  to  which 
they  had  yielded,  and  could  not  stop  until  tl>ey  had 
spent  all  tl»eir  spite  in  the  endeavour  to  dethrone  the 
Most  High, 

We  need  cmly  change  the  phrases  current  among 
the  populace,  and  substitute  one  set  of  emblematic 
embellishments  for  another,  and  then  the  horrid  scenes 
of  the  French  revolutionary  civil  war  are  repetitions, 
on  a  larger  scale,  of  those  exterminating  frenzies  that 
so  often  have  desolated  the  fair  provinces  of  that  coun- 
try. A  super-human  spectator  of  terrene  afi'airs — 
ignorant  of  the  dialect,  and  of  the  circumstantials, 
would  quite  have  failed  to  distinguish  the  blood-shed 
and  devastations  of  one  era  from  those  of  another; 
and  far  from  suspecting  that  the  truculent  savages  of 
the  Revolution  were  the  disciples  of  philosophers, 
might  have  deemed  them  only  superstitious  friars,  and 
templars,  of  a  new  and  more  intolerant  order. 


OF   THE    BANNER. 


213 


The  authors  of  this  confusion  discerned,  just  in 
time,  the  jeopardy  into  which  they  had  led  the  coun- 
try : — they  hastily  retraced  their  steps,  and  so  mankind 
lost  the  benefit  of  the  spectacle  which  must  soon  have 
been  witnessed  if  the  Intolerance  of  Impiety  had  been 
left  to  run  its  round.  Leave  was  given  to  the  Maker 
and  Ruler  of  the  Universe  to  resume  his  place  in  the 
fears — though  not  in  the  affections  of  the  people  ;  for 
it  had  been  found  that  without  the  stay  of  religion  the 
social  machine  could  not  safely  perform  its  move- 
ments. The  public  heralds  therefore  proclaimed  anew 
the  Eternal ;  and  leave  was  granted,  to  the  credulous 
at  least,  to  expect  a  future  life,  and  to  fear  retribution. 

The  lesson  perhaps  may  long  serve  the  European 
nations,  and  no  second  attempt  be  made  of  a  like 
kind.  Yet  what  has  once  happened  must  no  longer 
be  spoken  of  as  utterly  beyond  probability.  This 
assuredly  ought  to  be  confessed,  on  the  ground  now  of 
actual  experiment,  that  if  in  any  instance  the  ordinaiy 
or  common  and  sensual  impiety  of  the  mass  of  man- 
kind comes  to  be  quickened  by  a  stirring  spirit  of 
disbelief — if  the  irreligion  which  hitherto  has  been 
slugglish  or  frivolous,  kindles  into  a  petulant  bigotry, 
and  utters  itself  in  acrid  blasphemies  ;  and  especially, 
if  the  same  atheistic  zeal  lurks  in  the  bosoms  of  the 
upper  classes,  and  ferments  at  the  centre  of  govern- 
ment— then  little  will  be  wanted  to  put  these  forces 
in  movement,  or  to  direct  them  against  the  institutions 
and  the  parties  that  uphold  the  worship  of  God.  A 
slight  and  accidental  political  excitement  would  be 
enough  to  bring  on  the  crisis.  Whenever — if  ever — 
such  a  train  of  events  shall  in  any  country  have  room, 
it  will  be  seen  that,  if  Popery  be  a  bad  instigator  of 
the  malignant  passions  of  the  people,  Atheism  is  a 
worse ;  and  that  the  fanaticism  of  impiety  should  be 
dreaded  even  more  than  that  of  superstition. 

The  history  of  modern  Europe,  and  of  our  own 
country  especially,  would  have  afforded  many,  and 
striking  examples  of  that  order  of  Fanaticism  which 


214 


FikNATICISM. 


M 


I 


brings  the  military  and  religious  sentiments  into  com- 
bination. The  instances  are  present  to  the  recollec- 
tion of  every  reader.  And  beside  that  a  universal 
enumeration  could  subserve  no  important  purpose,  and 
would  fill  vohimes,  some  of  these  cases  are  of  that  am- 
biguous and  perplexing  kind,  which  a  writer  may  well 
desire  to  evade,  rather  than  meet  the  dilemma  of 
either  giving  a  sanction  to  what  it  would  be  unsafe  to 
approve  ;  or  of  sternly  condemning  what  we  ought 
not  to  think  ourselves  competent  to  adjudge  as  alto- 
gether immoral.  Moreover,  other  cases  of  this  order 
involve  the  political  and  religious  prejudices  of  existing 
parties ;  and  are  not  to  be  spoken  of  without  kindhng 
the  embers  of  faction.  To  call  the  originator  of  this 
or  that  body — a  fanatic,  would  be,  according  to  the 
interpretation  of  some,  to  become  the  champion  of  the 
opposite  system  of  opinions.  Or  to  brand  with  tl>e 
same  epithet  the  leaders  on  both  sides,  would  be  to 
wound  (and  still  more  deeply)  the  fond  predilections 
of  all.  There  are  pages  of  our  British  history — Eng- 
lish, Scottish,  and  Irish,  which  will  need  to  be  written 
anew,  when  our  religious  factions  shall  have  come  to 
their  end. 


SECTION  Vlil. 


FANATICISM   OF   THE    SYMBOL. 


The  arduous  part  of  our  subject  now  meets  us.  In 
reviewing  those  phases  of  error  which  have  long  ago 
passed  away,  we  occupy  a  vantage  ground,  and  may 
at  leisure  measure  the  proportions  of  the  distant 
object.  But  every  circumstance  of  the  inquiry  is  of 
another  sort  when  it  is  the  extant  form  of  religion 
which  comes  to  be  examined,  and  when  what^we 
should  calmly  and  impartially  speak  of,  are  practices, 
opinions  and  modes  of  feeling,  regarded  as  excellent' 
or  leniently  dealt  with  as  venial,  by  our  contemporaries 
— our  friends — our  coadjutors — ourselves. 

It  were  an  arrogance  in  any  man  to  assume  that  he 
can  exercise  an  absolutely  impartial  judgment  con- 
cerning the  things  of  his  own  age.  No  human  mind 
•has  ever  reached  such  serene  elevation.  If  the  char- 
acteristic and  prevailing  errors  of  the  day  have  been 
discerned  by  here  and  there  an  individual,  himself  has 
not  escaped  that  depressing  influence  which  attends  a 
long-continued  and  anxious  meditation  of  objects  that 
show  a  frowning  face  to  whoever  refuses  them  his 
homage.  Conscious  then  of  a  disadvantage  not  to  be 
avoided,  and  careful  to  maintain  that  modesty  which 
which  the  knowledge  of  it  should  engender,  we  may 
yet  advance,  enlieartened  by  the  anticipation  of  an  era, 
perhaps  not  very  remote,  when  the  religion  of  the 
Scriptures,  having  at  length  passed  through  the  cycle 
of  its  degradations,  shall,  without  any  more  hindrance, 
bless  the  human  family. 


216 


FANATICISM 


OF   THE    SYMBOL. 


217 


I 


In  contemplating  the  errors  of  past  ages,  no  point 
more  important  presents  itself,  nothing  which  should 
so  fix  our  attention  as  the  fact  that  certain  extravagant 
modes  of  feeling,  or  certain  pernicious  practices — the 
offspring  of  an  active  and  virulent  fanaticism,  have, 
after  a  while,  subsided  into  a  fixed  and  tranquil  form, 
such  as  has  allowed  them  to  win  the  approval  and  to 
secure  the  support  of  the  calmest  and  most  enlightened 
minds  ;  and  so  to  be  transmitted  through  successive 
ages — accredited,  unquestioned,  admired.    The  turbu- 
lent stage  of  fanaticism  would  do  the  church  little 
harm  if  it  were  not  succeeded  by  a  tame  and  mode- 
rate fanaticism — seemingly  wise  and  temperate. — The 
parent  in  these  instances  is  an  ephemeron ;  but  the 
progeny  has  had  a  longer  term  than  that  of  the  phoe- 
nix.—The  rugged  surface  of  our  globe,  such  as  it  is 
seen  among  the  Alps  or  Andes,  imposes  awe,  as  if 
those  stupendous  piles  of  primeval  rock,  capped  with 
the  snows  of  thousands  of  winters,  were   the   very 
symbols   of  protracted   unchanging    duration — or   of 
eternity  itself;   and  yet  is  it  not  true  that  the  huge 
masses  owe  their  stern  grandeur  and  their  lofty  pride 
to  terrible  powers  of  commotion? — these  mountains 
were  upheaved  when  our  world  was  in  her  fit  of  bois- 
terous phrenzy — when  convulsions  shook  her  centre. 
Instead  then  of  regarding  the  now  motionless  forms 
as  emblems  of  repose,  we  should  deem  them  rather 
the  relics  and  the  portents  too  of  confusion. 

Nothing,  or  nothing  favorable,  should  be  inferred 
on  the  behalf  of  any  system  or  constitution  of  things 
from  its  present  tranquillity,  or  from  the  moderation 
and  the  wisdom  that  invest  it ;  or  from  the  accidental 
benefits  which  it  may  claim  to  have  produced.  The 
blackest  superstitions  have  shewn  an  exterior  mildly 
magnificent : — the  extravagances  of  personal  torture 
have  worn  the  garb  of  seraphic  piety : — the  Fanati- 
cism of  intolerance  has  shone  in  combination  with 
great  qualities;  and  the  zeal  of  military  proselytisin 
has  made  alliance  with  substantial  virtues.     There  is 


u 


nothing,  then,  to  w^onder  at  if  even  genuine  piety  and 
the  brightest  personal  excellence  are  found  to  exist 
under  a  state  of  things  which  owes  its  origin  to  an 
impulse  essentially  fanatical.  The  question  is  always, 
not  whether  accomplishments  and  virtues  and  piety 
exist  within  this  or  that  system  ;  but  simply — whether 
the  system  itself  be  good  or  evil. 

The  Fanaticism  of  the  Symbol — or  a  malign  and 
turbulent  zeal  for  the  honour  of  a  creed,  supposes  of 
course,  the  possession  of  a  written  and  authoritative 
canon  of  faith.  But  then  this  rule  has  to  be  inter- 
preted ;  and  the  interpretation,  in  each  instance,  in- 
sensibly draws  to  itself  those  profound  emotions  which 
the  sacred  importance  of  the  canon  calls  into  play. 

It  does  not  appear  that  sectarian  rancour,  in  any 
distinct  form,  had  shewn  itself  before  the  lime  when 
the  Jewish  prophetic  economy  having  been  sealed, 
and  the  written  Testimony  of  God  consigned,  in  a 
defunct  dialect,  to  Interpreters,  a  field  was  opened 
to  diversities  of  opinion,  each  of  which  challenged  to 
itself  entire,  the  prerogatives  that  attach  of  right  to 
the  original  document.  From  the  period  when  Expo- 
sition of  Scripture  became  the  business  of  a  class  of 
men,  the  Jewish  community  parted  into  sects  which, 
in  an  exasperated  condition,  were  the  main  causes  oif 
the  ruin  of  the  state,  the  destruction  of  the  city,  and 
the  dispersion  of  the  race. 

In  this  instance  what  we  assume  to  have  been  new 
in  the  history  of  human  nature,  was  not  the  existence 
or  the  breaking  forth  of  the  diversities  of  opinion ;  for 
these  have  disturbed  all  countries  in  all  ages  ;  nor  was 
it  the  alliance  of  certain  modes  of  thinking  on  abstract 
subjects  with  temporary  and  political  interests ;  for 
nothing  has  been  more  common  than  such  associa- 
tions. But  the  novelty  was  precisely  this — That  the 
tremendous  weight  of  God's  sanction — truly  believed 
to  belong  to  the  Canon  of  Faith,  was  claimed  by  each 
party  in  behalf  of  its  special  exposition  of  the  rule. 
So  fatal  an  assumption  effected  a  firm  coalescence  of 

20 


218 


FANATICISM 


OF   THE    SYMBOL. 


219 


I 


I  J! 

i 


every  religious  sentiment  with  the  passionate  workings 
of  self-love,  pride,  jealousy,  and  the  sense  of  personal 
and  corporate  welfare. 

Within  the  circle  of  these  feelings  every  proper 
element  of  Fanaticism  finds  room,  and  no  species  of 
Fanaticism  has  been  altogether  so  compact  or  so  per- 
manent. The  other  kinds  (as  we  have  seen)  have  had 
their  hour  and  have  vanished  ;  this  has  settled  down 
upon  Religion — documentary  religion,  as  well  in  Eu- 
rope as  in  Asia,  and  now  in  America,  and  has  become 
the  inseparable  condition  of  all  forms  of  Worship. 

We  say  every  proper  element  of  Fanaticism  dis- 
plays itself  in  the  Fanaticism  of  the  Symbol. — As  for 
example : — The  Divine  Being,  when  so  outraged  as  to 
be  made  the  patron  of  a  virulent  faction,  appears  to 
the  votary  altogether  under  a  malign  aspect,  and  can 
no  more  be  thought  of  such  as  He  is.  Again,  the 
irritation  excited  by  opposition  in  matters  of  opinion, 
when  heightened  by  a  vindictive  forethought  of  future 
judgment,  brings  with  it  the  most  peculiar  species  of 
misanthropy  known  to  the  human  bosom  ;  and  an  ar- 
rogance too,  that  far  transcends  other  kinds  of  aristo- 
cratic pride.  With  an  anathematizing  Deity — an 
anathematized  world,  and  himself  safe  in  the  heart  of 
the  only  Church,  the  zealot  wants  nothing  that  can 
render  him  malign  and  insolent. 

Mere  diversities  of  opinion  by  no  means  necessarily 
involve  virulent  or  acrimonious  sentiments.  Sad  in- 
deed would  it  be  if  Christian  amity,  and  that  true 
unison  of  hearts  and  hands  which  the  church  should 
exhibit,  could  not  be  hoped  for  until  an  absolute  uni- 
formity of  notions  and  practices  is  brought  about ;  for 
it  is  plain  that  so  long  as  one  mind  possesses  more 
native  power  and  more  accomplishments  than  another, 
there  must  be  inequalities  of  knowledge,  and  varieties 
of  apprehension.  Nothing  less  than  the  imparting  of 
omniscience  to  every  human  being  could  remedy  the 
inconveniences  that  arise  from  this  source.  Nor  in  fact 
are  such  differences  ever  found  to  throw  a  cloud  over 


private  friendships,  or  to  disturb  the  harmony  of  gene- 
ral society,  while  angry  exaggerations  and  the  swell- 
ings of  wounded  pride  are  avoided. 

There  can  therefore  be  no  need  whatever  that,  as  a 
resource  against  the  evils  of  sectarian  virulence,  we 
should  either  throw  ourselves  into  the  arms  of  Church 
despotism,  and  renounce  the  liberty  of  reason  ;  or  give 
way  to  the  relaxation  and  the  apathy  which  would 
render  us  altogether  indifterent  to  truth  and  error. 
Tiiis  indeed  were  miserably  to  degrade  human  nature, 
and  to  quash  its  noblest  ambition.  We  subtract  the 
premium  from  mental  industry,  we  remove  the  crown 
irom  the  goal  on  the  course  of  knowledge,  when  we 
discourage  the  zeal  with  which  vigorous  minds  pursue 
Truth.  How  should  mankind  ever  emerge  from  bar- 
barism, or  how  free  themselves  from  the  tyranny  of 
superstition,  if  the  first  lesson  we  are  to  teach  them  is, 
that  error  has  no  noxious  quality,  and  truth  no  prerog- 
ative ? 

To  affirm  or  to  insinuate  that  a  just  and  accurate 
knowledge  of  Religion  avails  little  to  our  welfare,  is 
not  only  a  rank  absurdity,  but  must  be  regarded  as  a 
pernicious  tampering  with  that  fatal  insensibility  which, 
alas,  envelopes  human  nature.  Instead  of  teaching 
the  indifferency  of  opinion,  rather  let  every  man's 
anxiety  to  obtain  for  himself  the  inestimable  pearl  of 
genuine  knowledge  be  stimulated  to  the  utmost;  and 
then,  not  only  will  this  jewel  be  individually  secured, 
but  the  strange  illusion  will  be  broken  up  whence  fanat- 
ical zeal  takes  its  rise. — Strange  illusion  indeed,  which 
impels  a  man  who  has  bestowed  little  or  no  industry 
upon  the  business  of  seeking  truth  for  himself,  to  use 
efforts  so  prodigious  for  forcing  it  upon  others  I  An 
anomaly  surely  is  this  in  the  common  law  of  self-love. 
But  the  tenjper  and  conduct  of  the  zealot  are  made  up 
of  inconsistencies.  It  is,  he  says,  the  well-being  of  his 
fellow  men  which  incites  his  endeavours ;  and  yet  no- 
thing in  his  style  or  mien  bespeaks  philanthropy.  A 
disposition  the  very  reverse  of  good-will  one  would  as- 


220 


FANATICISM 


suredly  assign  to  him.  Besides  ; — while  thus  anxious 
to  hear  a  faultless  creed  uttered  by  all  lips,  this  cham- 
pion of  the  faith  walks  up  and  down  in  a  much  cor- 
rupted world,  scarcely  heeding  the  many  grievous 
degradations  under  which  humanity  is  suffering.  His 
eye  can  glare  upon  wretchedness  and  upon  vice  in 
their  most  melancholy  forms  —  and  forget  what  it 
sees.  Nay,  into  the  cup  of  human  woe  he  can  himself 
pour  the  bitterest  ingredients  ; — he  can  afflict  his  fellow 
men  with  the  whip,  with  the  brand  ; — he  can  cast  them 
into  dungeons,  and  leave  them  there  to  die  in  the  pes- 
tilent damps  of  his  charity  ; — all  this  he  can  do,  and 
still  persuade  himself  that  it  is  zeal  for  God  and  love 
to  man  which  prompts  his  labours. 

Thus  absurd  is  the  human  mind  when  fairly  sur- 
rendered to  religious  delusions.  The  power  of  the 
infatuation  in  these  cases  seems  to  result  from  a  com- 
bination of  the  opposite  feelings  belonging  to  full  per- 
suasion and  secret  misgiving.  The  controvertist  owes 
the  heat  of  his  zeal  as  well  to  firm  conviction  as  to  a 
mistrustful  anxiety  concerning  the  truth  of  his  dogmas  : 
— and  the  faith  and  the  doubt  are  alternately  attached 
to  the  authoritative  document  of  his  belief,  and  to  his 
special  interpretation  of  it.  It  is  this  very  oscillation 
of  the  mind  which  produces  the  turbulence  of  his  emo- 
tions. If  the  imagination  be  liable  to  high  excitement 
from  a  pressing  sense  of  the  reality  and  the  impending 
nearness  of  the  objects  that  engage  it,  this  excitement 
may  be  furnished  either  by  a  vivid  faith  in  the  original 
Canon,  or  by  confidence  in  the  Creed  that  has  been 
derived  from  it.  Th^n — as  fear  and  jealousy  bring 
the  irascible  passions  into  play,  these  will  not  fail  to 
take  occasion  from — the  obscurity  of  the  subject  in 
dispute — from  the  cogency  of  an  opponent's  argument 
— from  a  conscious  incompetency  to  deal  with  matters 
so  difficult,  and  not  least,  from  those  qualms  which 
follow  a  too  hiffhlv  stimulated  exertion  of  the  faculties. 

In  matters  of  belief,  and  especially  when  the  power- 
ful motives  of  religion  take  full  possession  of  the  mind, 


OP   THE    SYMBOL. 


221 


we  involuntarily  lean  very  much  one  upon  another. 
This  social  instinct  is  perhaps  stronger  than  is  ordina- 
rily supposed ;  and  it  is  very  likely  to  be  lost  sight  of 
where  the  prevalence  of  angry  passions  appears  to 
deny  its  existence.  And  yet  it  is  in  those  very  in- 
stances most  intensely  at  work.  Man  proves  himself 
to  be  constituted  for  society,  as  well  by  his  hatreds  as 
by  his  affections.  Amid  the  dimness  and  the  intricacy  of 
the  present  scene,  wherein  Truth  evades  pursuit,  and 
Error  uses  a  thousand  artifices  to  get  herself  courted, 
the  perplexed  spirit  fondly  looks  for  a  numerous  com- 
panionship in  the  path  it  takes.  Our  belief,  and  the 
comfort  of  belief,  mount  with  the  tens,  and  hundreds, 
and  thousands,  that  are  seen  to  be  joining  us  on  the 
road : — we  cannot  believe  alone  ;  and  our  doubts  too 
are  in  the  power  of  others.  To  assail  our  convictions 
is  not  merely  to  wound  our  self-love,  and  to  irritate 
our  pride,  but  it  is  to  withdraw  something  from  the 
interior  warmth  and  vigour  of  the  soul.  Without  for- 
mally confessing  it  as  a  fact,  that  an  antagonist  has 
robbed  us  of  our  assurance — for  the  contrary  would  be 
affirmed,  our  feelings  are  the  same  as  if  we  had  been 
despoiled  of  that  precious  possession  ;  and  these  feel- 
ings prompt  us  not  merely  to  resent  the  injury,  but  to 
recover  the  property  lost. 

Putting  out  of  view  then  certain  accessory  motives 
which  will  presently  claim  to  be  mentioned,  the  zealous 
champion  and  propagator  of  a  Creed  has  an  interest 
to  promote  that  deeply  engages  his  passions.  Pride 
and  secular  advantages  out  of  the  question,  it  is  a 
matter  of  sincere  anxiety  with  him  to  secure,  to  main- 
tain, and  to  extend  the  pale  of  his  party.  He  looks 
aghast  at  the  danger  of  being  deserted,  or  of  seeing  a 
host  on  the  opposite  heights.  No  endeavours  are  too 
great  therefore  winch  may  arrest  defection  while  it  is 
small  and  feeble.  Under  the  pressure  of  this  solicitude 
it  is  no  wonder  that  the  defender  of  a  Creed  should 
avail  himself  of  the  extreme  means  of  persuasion.  Or 
if  measures  of  violence  are  not  at  hand,  he  snatches 

20* 


222 


FANATICISM 


OP   THE    SYMBOL. 


223 


h 


I 


up  the  weapons  of  spiritual  hostility.  And  first,  a 
strenuous  endeavour  is  made  so  to  identify  the  special 
interpretation  with  the  Authoritative  Canon  of  faith, 
as  that  whoever  impugns  the  former  shall  stand  de- 
clared— the  enemy  of  God.  Instead  of  for  a  moment 
admitting  the  reasonable  and  modest  supposition  that 
the  Interpretation  may  perhaps  contain  more  than  the 
Canon  will  support,  and  that  therefore  caution  should 
be  used  in  doling  out  anathemas,  every  artifice  of  an 
elaborate  sophistry  is  employed  to  keep  such  a  sup- 
position out  of  view.  Nothing  less  than  the  peculiar 
exigency  of  the  occasion  could  drive  the  zealot  into  so 
egregious  a  dogmatism,  for  he  feels  that  if  he  were 
to  give  ground  but  an  inch,  he  must  forfeit  his  usurped 
right  to  fling  the  bolts  of  heaven.  If  the  Interpreta- 
tion be  not  indeed  divine,  it  is  merely  human — a  simple 
opinion ;  and  if  so,  must  be  submitted  to  the  common 
conditions  of  argument.  The  headlong  champion 
would  not  go  so  far  as  he  does,  if  he  knew  how  to  stop 
short,  or  if  there  were  any  middle  ground.  It  may 
well  be  believed  that,  in  many  an  instance,  the  acri- 
mony and  the  blasphemous  arrogance  of  sectarists 
have  scandalized  even  themselves  in  their  more  sober 
moments. — But  what  could  be  done  I — As  well  sur- 
render the  controversy  and  confess  defeat,  as  relin- 
quish the  right. to  curse  in  the  name  of  God.  This 
right  laid  down,  and  how  meagre,  how  cold,  how 
powerless  a  thing  is  the  argument,  reduced  to  its  naked 
merits  !  The  punishment  affixed  by  the  laws  of  the 
moral  world  to  the  first  offence  of  entertaining  malig- 
nant exaggerations,  is  the  necessity  it  involves  of  run- 
ning on  to  still  worse  excesses.  Once  madly  insult 
reason  and  charity,  and  we  are  abandoned,  perhaps 
for  ever,  by  both. 

The  transition  is  rapid  and  almost  involuntary  from 
the  first  stage  of  fanatical  intemperance  to  its  last : — 
the  ground  in  these  regions  is  precipitous,  and  whoever 
leaps,  leaps  into  an  abyss.  The  facility  with  which  a 
specific  gratification  may  be  procured  is  a  main  cir- 


cumstance in  giving  impetuosity  to  sordid  desires :  for 
while  it  is  difficulty  that  enhances  the  nobler  passions, 
it  is  facility  that  enhances  the  baser.  So,  especially, 
does  it  happen  with  rancorous  and  vindictive  emotions. 
Only  allow  them  a  ready  means  of  reaching  their  con- 
summation, and  they  rush  on  ungovernably.  Now  the 
peculiarity  of  the  position  which  the  religionist  occupies, 
oflfers  always  to  his  hand  the  most  tremendous  missiles 
revenge  can  covet.  On  the  field  of  common  life  many 
obstacles  happily  stand  in  the  way  to  prevent  the 
completion  of  an  angry  resolve : — the  dark  purpose  of 
the  moment  postponed,  dies  away,  and  is  forgotten. 
But  it  is  not  so  in  the  spiritual  world.  The  revenge 
which  the  irritated  zealot  meditates  is  ready — it  is 
safe,  and  it  is  ample  : — how  then  should  it  be  foregone  ? 
He  has  only  to  mutter  perdition — and  the  stab  is 
given.  A  murky  revenge  analogous  to  this  of  the  reli- 
gionist has  been  common  among  barbarous  and  super- 
stitious hordes. — The  malign  sorcerer — intimate  of 
demons,  thinking  himself  full  fraught  with  venom  bor- 
rowed from  the  infernal  world,  is  well  content  to  dart 
a  look  only  at  his  enemy  ;  sure  that  the  mere  glance 
of  the  evil  eye  of  hatred  would  in  due  time  take  effisct 
— that  the  florid  cheek  must  fade — the  strength  decay, 
and  the  victim  fall. 

Yet  Conscience  claims  her  hour  with  all  men,  even 
the  most  debauched  ;  and  it  must  especially  be  so  with 
those  whose  habits  make  them  conversant  with  the 
divine  rule  of  morality.  Such,  although  every  day 
indulging  the  darkest  malignity,  are  continually  reading 
that  "  whosoever  hateth  his  brother  is  not  of  God." 
They  may  abstain  from  distinctly  bringing  the  crite- 
rion home  upon  themselves ;  and  yet  are  fain  to  have 
recourse  to  pleas  that  are  intended  to  parry  the  con- 
demnatory inference  from  the  rule.  The  pretexts  of 
zeal  are  many : — and  if,  as  we  have  seen,  tormentors, 
murderers,  devastators  of  kingdoms,  can  quote  chapter 
and  verse  in  justification  of  their  barbarities,  those  who 


224 


FANATICISM 


OF   THE    SYMBOL. 


225 


only  curse,  but  do  not  kill  their  opponents,  may  easily 
do  the  same. 

Many,  as  is  evident  from  the  peculiar  character  of 
their  devotional  sentiments,  have  taken  a  somewhat 
more  circuitous,  but  a  still  more  effectual  method  for 
lulling  conscience,  and  for  turning  aside  from  them- 
selves the  rules  of  charity.  This  method  has  been 
(alas  the  inconsistencies  of  human  nature !)  so  to  cherish 
the  fervours  of  piety,  and  so  to  straiten  the  pattern  of 
their  external  behaviour,  as  should  seem  to  remove  all 
suspicion  of  the  genuineness  and  elevation  of  their 
personal  religion.  By  amassing  to  a  prodigious  height 
the  evidences  of  sanctity,  a  commensurate  licence  has 
been  obtained  for  the  indulgence  of  hideous  passions. 
A  man  who  every  day  ascends  the  mount  of  ecstasy, 
and  holds  intimate  converse  with  heaven,  surely  should 
not  be  called  in  question,  when  he  comes  down  to 
earth,  on  account  of  an  inexorable  or  vindictive  tem- 
per !  Examples  of  this  very  sort  are  abundant  (and 
some  have  already  been  referred  to)  on  the  pages  of 
Romish  pietism ;  and  we  may  find  on  the  calendar 
men  whose  breath  was  pestilence,  whose  every  word 
was  a  fiery  bolt,  persuading  themselves  and  their  ad- 
mirers that  they  enjoyed  celestial  favours,  such  as 
Gabriel  and  Michael  might  envy  !  To  assume  that 
the  accident  of  a  protestant  creed  quite  excludes  any 
parallel  enormity,  were  indeed  to  be  blind.  What  we 
are  now  speaking  of  is — hum  m  nature,  and  the  mys- 
teries of  its  delusions ; — not  the  question  of  transub- 
stantiation,or  of  the  pope's  pretensions. 

Among  those  who  make  themselves  conspicuous  as 
the  chiefs  and  leaders  of  the  fanaticism  of  dogmas  and 
creeds,  many  marked  distinctions,  arising  from  natural 
temper,  might  be  pointed  out ;  but  it  must  suffice  here 
to  mention  the  two  orders  of  character  that  stand 
foremost.  These  are — The  Despotic  and  the  Ambi- 
tious. 

There  have  been  Bajazets  and  Zingis  Khans  on  the 
field  where  the  quill  is  the  only  weapon  that  is  wielded. 


But  how  difficult  is  it  to  analyse  satisfactorily  the  emo- 
tions that  constitute  the  lust  of  power  where  nothing 
that  is  secular  or  tangible — nothing  that  is  intelligibly 
advantageous — nothing  that  makes  a  man  richer  or 
better,  is  to  spring  from  the  attainment  of  his  purpose  ! 
While  the  earlier  and  immature  stages  of  a  dominant 
passion  retain  many  alliances  with  other  motives,  and 
are  found  to  be  mixed  up  with  various  ingredients,  so 
as  to  afford  several  points  of  connexion,  whence  they 
may  easily  be  traced  to  their  sources,  and  brought  to 
view ; — it  is  the  characteristic  of  the  last  stage  of  such 
passions  that,  having  let  go  every  such  alliance,  they 
become  inexplicable,  and  defy  scrutiny: — a  simple 
element  admits  of  no  analysis.  The  passion  that  has 
at  length  made  itself  exclusive  master  of  the  breast, 
closes  the  avenues,  and  enjoys  its  solitude.  Thus  it  is 
with  avarice.  So  long  as  any  one  purpose  for  vrhich 
money  avails  is  kept  in  view,  we  may  conceive  of  the 
miser's  avidity ;  but  after  every  ordinary  desire  has 
been  excluded  and  renounced,  the  love  of  hoarding 
can  be  described  only  as  an  insanity,  to  which  it  is 
vain  to  apply  the  principles  of  reason.  When  the 
wretch,  shutting  out  the  pleasures  of  life,  its  pride,  and 
its  hopes,  clasps  his  shapeless  bags  as  a  sovereign  good 
— we  lose  hold  of  him — the  last  link  of  human  sym- 
pathy is  snapt,  and  he  seems  to  go  adrift  from  his 
species. 

A  similar  mystery  belongs  to  the  lust  of  power  in 
those  cases  where  it  prevails  exclusively  of  the  hope 
of  secular  or  palpable  benefits  accruing  to  the  individ- 
ual. The  passion  which  leads  a  man  to  subjugate 
kingdoms  is  intelligible  ;  but  how  shall  we  explain  the 
feeling  that  makes  a  man  pant  to  bring  the  realms  of 
mind  under  bondage,  and  when  it  is  not  himself  that 
is  to  enjoy  the  homage  of  the  vanquished  world  ? 
Now  it  is  a  curious  fact,  that  the  individuals  who  have 
exhibited  in  the  extremest  degree  this  species  of  insa- 
tiable arrogance  have  themselves  occupied  a  subaltern 
position  in  the  hierarchy  or  polity  to  which  they  ren- 


226 


FANATICIS3I 


OF    THE    SYMBOL. 


227 


/ 


/ 


\ 


\ 


dered  their  services ;  and  have  not  shewn  any  very 
active  personal  ambition,  as  if  the  attainment  of  visi- 
ble supremacy  had  been  their  ultimate  motive. 

Minds  in  an  eminent  degree  fervent  and  energetic 
never  occupy  the  common  ground  of  vulgar  interests : 
— their  native  region  is  a  higher  one — or  a  lower; 
and  although  they  may  seem  to  be  busy,  and  perhaps 
are  so,  with  the  ordinary  concerns  that  fall  under  their 
management,  these  palpable  elements  are  but  so  many 
ciphers  of  a  more  important  intellectual  process  that 
is  going  on : — the  matters  handled  are  dice,  by  means 
of  which  a  great  game  is  played.  Such  spirits,  con- 
versing with  the  ideal  rather  than  with  the  actual 
world,  see  every  thing  in  symbol.  The  revolutions 
and  advancements,  the  perils  or  the  increase  of  a  hie- 
rarchy, mean,  to  such,  more  than  can  be  given  account 
of  in  common  modes  of  computation.  While  the 
poet  descries  on  the  face  of  nature  the  types  of  a 
world  of  unsullied  beauty,  and  while  the  metaphysi- 
cian gathers  from  the  things  around  him  nothing  but  ab- 
stract truth,  there  is  a  class  of  men  whose  conceptions 
of  ideal  perfection  turn  upon  order — government,  and 
the  unison  of  wills. — Add  to  this  peculiar  intellec- 
tual taste  a  haughty  asperity  of  temper,  and  bring  the 
individual  to  his  position  within  some  vast  edifice  of 
despotism  ;  and  he  will  exhibit  the  singular  passion  we 
are  speaking  of. — Or  shall  we  adduce  an  actual  in- 
stance, and  name  the  learned,  irascible,  dogmatic 
Jerom  ?  All  his  great  merits  duly  admitted  ;*  and  in 
truth  Jerom  stands  unrivalled  in  his  age,  both  for  ac- 
complishments and  force  of  intellect,  it  can  yet  be  no 
injustice  thus  to  point  him  out  as  a  proper  specimen  of 

*  The  power  of  miracles  was  not  reckoned  among  lliis  saint's 
endowments,  and  it  is  singular  that  few  men  of  superior  understand- 
ing made  any  boast  of  the  sort.  Erasmus  balances  the  disparage- 
ment ingeniously : — GLuod  si  cui  nihil  absque  miraculorum  portentis 
placere  potest,  is  legat  Hieronymianos  libros,  in  quibus  tot  pene 
miracula  sunt,  quod  sententice.  Nu  attention  is  due  to  a  spurious 
Life  of  Jerom,  in  which  miraculous  powers  are  largely  claimed 
for  him. 


that  theological  despotic  temper,  which,  irrespectively 
of  personal  advantages  or  aggrandizement,  impels  a 
man  to  refuse  to  others  the  liberty  of  thought  and  ut- 
terance, and  which  would,  if  it  were  possible,  impose 
eternal  silence  upon  the  world  of  mind — so  that  all 
should  bow,  not  indeed  to  himself,  but  to  the  authentic 
standard  of  belief  which  he  admires  and  defends. 

With  the  fairest  opportunities  again  and  again  pre- 
sented to  him  of  ascending  to  whatever  position  he 
might  please  of  ecclesiastical  greatness,  and  of  grasp- 
ing the  fattest  things  of  the  Church,  this  extraordinary 
man  broke  away  from  the  world,  and  from  the  pontifi- 
cal court,  and  freely,  and  without  affectation,  took  up 
his  abode  in  a  narrow  cell  at  Bethlehem.*  If  at 
length  a  little  sphere  of  personal  influence  gathered 
about  him,  it  was  by  no  eflforts  of  his  own  that  he 
thus  came  to  be  courted  as  chief  of  a  community.f 
Jerom  was,  in  the  most  complete  sense — an  intellec- 
tualist : — it  cost  him  nothing  to  tread  the  pomps  of  the 
world  under  foot.  Few  perhaps  have  relished  with  a 
keener  taste  the  delights  of  a  literary  course.  Upon 
the  books  and  parchments  that  crammed  his  cloister 
he  gazed,  pen  in  hand,  with  fond  and  greedy  satisfac- 

♦  Jerom's  accomplished  biographer  (above  quoted)  will  not  allow 
the  stupid  monks  of  his  own  age  to  suppose  that  this  illustrious  man 
— monk  as  he  is  called— led  a  life  in  any  sense  like  their  own— csere- 
moniis  obslrictam.  And  he  subjoins  an  animated  description  of  the 
ancient  monastic  institute— its  liberty,  its  elevation,  its  purity  Such, 
we  grant,  it  might  be  when  a  Basil  or  Jerom  presided  ;  but  assuredly 
not  so  when  the  feeble  and  the  fanatical  were  left  to  themselves. 
Let  Palladius  bear  witness. 

t  Though  ordained  Presbyter,  and  nominally  charged,  as  Sulpitius 
testifies  (Dicdog.l.)  with  the  care  of  the  Church  of  Bethlehem;  he 
held  office  under  the  stipulation  that  he  should  not  be  burdened  with 
the  pastoral  duties.  His  only  external  care  seems  to  have  been  that 
of  the  consciences  of  the  ladies  who  put  their  spiritual  interests  un- 
der his  direction.  Of  the  mode  in  which  he  acquitted  himself  of  this 
duty  the  Epistles  to  Marcella,  Eustochium,  Paula,  &c.  give  evidence. 
It  should  be  added  that  not  the  slightest  suspicion  attaches  to  Jerom 
in  these  instances.  Those  who  would  indulce  railleries  on  the  occa- 
sion prove  that  they  judge  of  the  characters^of  men  by  the  rule  of 
their  own  vulgar  knowledge  of  human  nature. 


j^28  FANATICISM 

tion ;— the  king  of  Babylon  looking  down  from  his 
gardens  upon  the  gilded  roofs  of  palaces,  all  his  own, 
might  have  thought  himself  less  happy.* 

Yet  Jerom  wanted,  not  only  the  serenity  of  the 
Christian  temper,  which  may  render  a  man  happy  m 
seclusion,  though  conscious  of  powers  that  might  ena- 
ble  him  to  shine  in  the  first  ranks  of  life ;  but  even 
that  philosophic  placidity  which  belongs  to  the  genuine 
lover  of  physical  or  abstruse  science.  He  was  the 
Theologue— and  the  word  is  designation  enough,  i^o 
long  as  there  might  be  heard,  from  any  quarter  of  the 
wide  world,  a  dissentient  whisper— a  breath  of  oppo- 
sition  to  the  authentic  decisions  of  the  Church,  no  rest 
could  be  enjoyed,  and  no  mercy  could  be  shewn :  the 
eainsayer  must  be  crushed.  "  Never  have  I  spared 
the  heretic,"  is  the  boast  of  this  doctor,  "but  have 
always  reckoned   and    treated    the   enemies  of  the 

Church  as  my  own."t  .    .     , .    .    ,         + 

None  could  dispute  Jerom's  merit  m  this  instance. J 
Was  there  any  where  displayed  a  disposition  to  call 
in  question,  even  in  the  most  modest  style,  the  immac- 
ulate creed  or  the  faultless  usages  of  the  Church  j 
Jerom  started  up  from  his  pallet,  and  with  the  iron  rod 
of  his  merciless  eloquence  pursued  the  offender  from 
side  to  side  of  tl.o  empire  ;— from  Egypt  to  Britain  ;-- 
from  Syria  to  8pain ;— from  Numidia  to  Gaul.H     It  is 

*  A  great  part  of  his  pal.wnonv  Jerom  expended  in  the  collection 
of  a  library,  which  his  writings  prove  to  have  included  the  principal 
literature  of  the  age.  These,  purchased  at  Rome  and  in  Egypt,  he 
carried  with  him  when  the  second  time  he  abandoned  public  lite  and 
retired  to  Bethlehem. 

t  Prooem.  adversus  Pelagianos. 

+  Erasmus  in  one  place  seems  to  deny  Jerom's  acerbity  of  temper, 
And  appeals  to  certain  mild  expostulatory  epistles  addressed  to  his 
friends  But  the  proof  of  a  man's  disposiiion  is  to  be  gathered  trom 
his  behaviour  towards  his  enemies.  Yet  the  same  writer  on  another 
occasion  says,  speaking  of  his  controversial  and  apologetical  pieces— 
I  n  utroque  vehemens  et  acer  Hieronymus,  ut  nonnuUis  parunj 
memor  Christianae  modestiae  videri  possit.  But,  says  he,  it  »s  not 
to  be  wondered  at  that  a  man  of  so  pure  and  holy  a  hfe  should  show 
some  impatience  toward  gainsayers.  ,,    ♦  u«  u.taA 

y  He  protests  however  that  it  was  Error,  not  Men,  that  he  bated. 


OP    THE    SYMBOL. 


229 


edifying  to  follow  this  defender  of  a  perfect  Church 
on  those  peculiar  occasions  in  which  the  whole  forces 
of  his  mmd  are  employed— not  to  sustain  some  one  of 
the  capital  principles  of  faith— nor  some  article  of  dis- 
ciplme  apparently  good  and  sanatory;  but  a  confessed 
and  egregious  abuse ;— an  abuse  against  which  mode- 
rate  and   reasonable  men   had   already  raised  th^ir 
voices  ;— an  abuse  to  which  public  opinion  was  then 
actually  administering  a  partial  remedy ;— an  abuse 
moreover,  which  presently  afterwards  the  very  chiefs 
of  the  Church  themselves  found  they  could  no  longer 
uphold,  and  were  compelled  to  denounce.     It  appears 
that  scandalous  irregularities  had   long   attended  the 
nocturnal  services,  or  vigils,  with  which  certain  festi- 
vals were   honoured.— Yes  ;    but  the  usage  was  "  a 
venerable"  one  ;— it   had    been   authenticated  :— The 
Church— the  Church  approved  it:— popes  pronounced 
It  good:  but  more  than  all,  a  bold  and  contumacious 
dissident  had  come  forward  to  impugn  it.     The  night 
vigils  therefore,  with  all  their  debaucheries,  were  to 
be  valiantly  maintained,  and   maintained  too  by  the 
most  inexorable  ascetic  of  the  age  !     Amazing  sole- 
cism !  this  doctor,  who  would  himself  cheerfully  have 
burned  rather  than  sanction  the  marriage  of  a'priest, 
is  now  heard  pouring  execrations  upoifan  opponent 
whose  extent  of  crime  was  to  assert  on  the  one  hand 
the  lawfulness  of  clerical  matrimony,  and  to  deny  on 
the  other  the  expediency  of  promiscuous  nocturnal 
assemblages  in  Churches  !* 

Ant  certe,  si  in  errore  voluerint  permanere,  non  nostram  cnlpam  esse 
qui  scripsimus,  sed  eorum.  &c.  His  opponents  attributed  tiie  warmth 
ot  his  zeal  to  envy— Ego  solus  sum,  qui  cunctorum  gloria  inordear- 
et  tarn  miser  ut  his  quoquc  invideam,  qui  non  merentur  invidiam  ' 

The  candle-light  processions  and  nocturnal  services  which  formed 
part  of  the  ceremonial  of  the  Church,  were,  like  very  manv  of  its 
pomps  and  superstitions,  adaptations  only  of  idolatrous  pr'actices 
which  It  was  found  more  easy  to  transmute  than  to  abrogate  The 
Pascha  vigils  were  the  Thesmophoria,  under  a  change  of  names 
Who  shall  say  whether  decency  has  been  most  violated  by  the  wor* 
shippers  of  Ceres,  or  the  observers  of  candlemass  !  The  derivation 
of  the  nocturnal  illuminations  from  Egypt  to  the  Grecian  worship, 


230 


FANATICISM 


Athanasius,  with  a  magnanimity  that  has  extorted 
praise  e\'en  from  Gibbon,  suffering,  preaching,  and 
writing  in  defence  of  a  doctrine  that  constituted  the 
very  foundation  of  the  Christian  system,  is  well  entitled 
to  indulgence  if  at  any  time  the  heat  or  the  anxieties 
of  a  molnentous  controversy  lead  him  into  intemper- 
ance of  language.  But  what  indulgence  can  be  due  to 
the  despotic  Jerom,  whose  arrogance  bursts  all  bounds 
on  an  occasion  in  which  a  wise  man  would  either  have 
silently  listened  to  rebuke,  or  have  candidly  and  openly 
admitted  the  propriety  and  seasonableness  of  his  op- 
ponent's objection  ? 

An  important  lesson  might  be  gathered  from  a  re- 
view of  the  circumstances  of  each  of  the  controversies 
in  which  this  learned  writer  engaged  ;  but  we  must  at 
least  pause  a  moment  upon  the  one  carried  on  against 
first,  Jovinian,  and  then  Vigilantius.* 

If  any  such  exchange  were  practicable,  we  might 
well  consent  to  throw  into  the  gulf  of  oblivion  one  of 
the  most  voluminous  of  the  Fathers — even  Jerom  him- 
self, as  the  price  of  recovering  an  authentic  statement 
of  the  opinions  and  arguments  of  these  two  early  dis- 
sidents, of  whom  in  fact  we  can  now  learn  nothing 
more  trustworthy  than  what  a  good  catholic  of  Spain 
or  Ireland  may  know  of  the  doctrines  of  Luther  and 
Calvin  by  the  favour  of  his  priest.  That  they  were 
men  of  unblemished  faith  and  piety,  as  well  as  of  vig- 
orous understanding,  cannot  be  absolutely  ascertam- 
ed,  nor  are  even  their  specific  opinions  to  be  clearly 
determined.  Contumelious  exaggeration  swells  every 
sentence  of  the  passages  in  which  their  opponents 
depict  them-t      It  may  however  be  inferred  pretty 

and  the  adoption  of  the  custom  by  the  church,  is  traced  at  length  by 
Ciampinus,  Vetera  .Monimenta,  Pars  I.  p.  190.  Eusebius  tells  us  that 
splendid  illuminations  were  employed  by  Constantine  as  a  means  of 
bringing  over  the  populace  of  Byzantium  to  Christianity. 

*  Jerom  does  not  abstain  from  the  pun  which  the  name  of  his  op- 
ponent so  naturally  suggests.—"  VigUanlius  ?  no,  call  him  rather 
Dormitiantius.^^ 

t  Ais  Vigilantius  os  fatidum  rursus  aperire,  et  putorem  spurciSr 
simum  contra  sanctorum  martyrum  proferre  reliquias. 


OF    THE    SYMBOL. 


231 


clearly  that  the  one,  as  well  as  the  other,  inveighed 
against  each  of  the  principal  superstitionsof  the  times; 
— especially   against   the  vow   of  virginity,   and   the 
merits  of  monkery — the  mediation  of  saints — the  wor- 
ship of  relics,  and  the   usage  of  promiscuous  vigils* 
It  seems  also  that  the  absolving  power  assumed  by  the 
clergy,  and  the  secular  usurpations  of  the  hierarchy 
were  called  in  question  by  them.     No  valid  suspicion 
attaches  to  the  proper  orthodoxy  of  these  men  ;*  but 
it  is  plain  that  the  assault  they  made,  though  directed 
against  single  points  only,  or  adjuncts  of  the  faith  and 
practice  of  the  Church,  involved  inseparably  the  fate 
of  the   entire   edifice  of  Religion — religion   such  aa 
doctors  and  monks  had  made  it.     Every  thing  must 
have  fallen  to  the  ground — the  polity,  the  creeds,  the 
power  of  Rome,  the  monasteries : — not  a  stone  could; 
have  been  left  upon  another,  if  Jovinian  and  Vigilaa- 
tius  had  succeeded  in  awakening  the  people  of  Chris- 
tendom from  their  trance,  and  had  brought  emperors 
and  secular  men  of  rank  to  listen  to  them  favourably. 
Had  thtjsc  Reformers  led  back  the  minds  of  men  ta 
the  Scriptures,  and  to  the  simplicity  of  faith  and  the 
soundness  of  morality — the  horrors  of  more  than  a 
thousand  years  of  superstition  might  have  been  saved. 
Alas  !  another  destiny  awaited  the   nations.     The 
Church  had  reached,  at  the  close  of  the  fourth  century, 
the  edge  of  a  steep ;  but  it  yet  stood  upon  ground 
whence  a  return  was  practicable.     Learning  and  in- 
telligence were  widely  diffused  ;  and  of  the  aliment  of 
knowledge  there  was  no  dearth  :  a  seal  had  not  yet 
been  set  upon  the  volume  of  Scripture.    The  separate 
existence  and  independence  of  the  Eastern  and  Wes- 
tern— the  Greek  and  the  Latin  Churches,  secured,  or 
might  have  secured,  an  asylum  to  liberty.    Indications 
too  may  be  discerned  of  the  fact,  that  although  high 

*  Jerom,  in  his  Catalogue  of  Church  Writers,  assigns  Vigilantius 
a  place  among  heretics,  only  on  the  ground  of  his  opposition  to  the 
points  above  mentioned  :  had  his  orthodcxy  been  assailable,  there  is 
no  doubt  we  should  have  heard  of  his  delinquency. 


232 


FANATICIS3I 


OP   THE    SYMBOL. 


233 


5 


4t 


'li: 


ii 


personages  and  dignitaries  and  eloquent  writers,  held 
together,  and  understood  their  common  interest,  there 
were  individuals — perhnps  multitudes,  who  were  far 
from  assenting  to  the  superstitions  of  the  age,  and  who, 
with  the  Scriptures  in  tiieir  hands,  dared  to  doubt, 
though  hardly  to  speak  or  act.* 

The  regeneration  of  the  Church  was  in  that  age 
hypothetically  possible,  and  actually  attempted  ;  yet  it 
utterly  failed.  The  men  whose  intelligence  and  ex- 
pansion of  mind  should  have  taught  them  to  listen  to 
reproof,  and  who  should  have  entertained — if  it  had 
been  but  for  a  moment,  the  suspicion  that  the  course 
of  things  might  be  unsafe — these,  with  a  headlong  in- 
temperance, rushed  upon  the  objectors,  and  triumphed. 
Ambrose,  Augustine,  and  Jerom,  the  three  illustrious 
leaders  of  the  age,  joined  their  giant  strength,  and  gave 
to  the  Church  the  plunge  which  sent  it  down  to  the 
abyss.  Whatever  of  degrading  superstition,  whatever 
of  sanguinary  fanaticism,  whatever  folly,  whatever 
corruption,  whatever  cruelty,  belonged  to  the  religious 
condition  of  Europe  under  the  sway  of  Hildebrand, 
may  be  assigned  (as  a  true  consequence)  to  the  part 
taken  and  the  course  pursued  by  the  great  men  we 
have  named : — the  fate  of  mankind  through  a  long 
night  of  ignorance  and  malign  tyranny  was  sealed 
when  Ambrose,  Augustin,  and  Jerom,  combined  to 
crush  dissent.  • 

Shall  we  apportion  the  blame  among  the  three? 
If  it  were  attempted  to  do  so,  a  distinction,  often 

*  The  frequency  and  the  seriousness  of  Augustine's  references  to 
the  heresy  of  Jovinian  prove  that  it  had  spread  to  an  alarming  extent : 
the  same  may  be  gathered  from  the  anxiety  of  Jerom.  The  former, 
De  Bono  Conjugali,  and  Retract,  b.  ii.  c.  22,  says — Joviniani  hoBresis 
sacrarura  virgiuqm  meritum  aequando  pudicitiae  conjugaU  tantum 
valuit  in  urbe  Roma,  ut  nonnullas  etiam  sanctimoniales,  de  quarum 
pudicitia  suspicio  nulla  praecesserat,  dejecisse  in  nuptias  diceretur  . .  . 
Althouch  repressed  by  the  Church,  the  monstrous  doctrine  continued, 
it  is  added,  to  be  whispered  and  insinuated  during  several  years. 
Jovinian  himself  was  exiled  to  the  island  of  Boa — a  rock  on  tho 
Illyrian  coast,  where  he  died: — such  was  the  tolerance  of  the  fourth 
century  [ 


requisite,  must  be  made  between  personal  criminality, 
and  the  actual  ill  consequence  of  a  fatal  course  of 
conduct ;  for  while  it  is  Jerom  who  must  bear  almost 
alone  the  blame  of  indulging  a  despotic  and  malignant 
temper,  it  was  the  opposite  qualities  of  Augustine— hie 
mildness  and  his  piety,  that  gave  to  his  influence  a 
permanent  efficacy.  Mankind  would  have  sickened 
at  the  arrogance  of  the  one,  if  the  other  had  not  stood 
by  his  side.  The  bishop  of  Milan  perhaps  should  take 
station  between  the  two.* 

Fanaticism,  as  we  assume,  combinies  always  malign 
and  imaginative  sentiiUiCnts,  and  in  some  instances  the 
former,  in  others  the  latter,  predominate.  Thus,  ia 
the  case  of  the  despotic  champion  of  existing  establishr 
Btteats^the  darker  ingredient  prevails  over  the  brighter^ 
or  quite  excludes  it.  But  with  the  am,bitious  propar 
gator  of  novel  dogmas,  or  die  factious  chief  of  a  sect, 
the  imaginative  element  is  ordinarily  paramount ;  and 
it  is  not  until  after  the  temper  has  been  impaired  by 
exposure  to  irritation  that  the  irascible  and  vindictive 
passions  take  the  lead  in  the  character.  The  religious 
demagogue  is  at  first  an  Enthusiast  oaly,  and  rises  to 
fanaticism  upon  the  winds  of  strife.     Moireosfer  th& 

•  Jerom  had  much  more  to  do  with  these  dissidents  tbaji  either 
Ambrose  or  Augustine.  The  bishop  of  Milan,  in  an  epistle  to  pope 
Syricius,  reporting  the  result  of  a  council  of  seven  or  eight  bishops, 
held  therefor  the  condemnation  of  certain  heretics,  assures  liis  holiness 
of  their  perfect  concurrence  with  the  papal  court : — Jovinianum,  &c. 
&c.  quos  Sanctitas  Tua  damnavit,  sciaa  apud  noe  quoqwe,  secundum 
judiciimi  tuum,  esse  damnatos.  All  were  no  better  than  Manichees, 
whose  impious  doctrine — clementissimus  exsecratus  est  imperator 
(Theodosius)— and  whose  sectators  had  been  expelled  from  Milan. 

The  allusions  made  by  Augustine  to  Jovinian  are  in  a  somewhat 
better  style  ;  and  it  appears  from  them  that  his  opinion  was  formed 
upon  hearsay.  See  De  Pec.  Merit,  et  remis.  h.  iii.  c.  7,  and  De  Mipt. 
b.  ii.  c.  5;  where  we  learn  that  Jovinian  had  first  glared  to  call  Am- 
brose—Manichce— the  common  epithet  then  of  theological  contempt, 
and  flung  from  side  to  side  like  Methodist  or  Calvinist.  Takmg 
Augustine's  own  account  of  the  matter,  as  stated  a  little  further  op^ 
in  the  same  treatise,  it  must  be  granted  that  Jovinian  had  some  reason 
on  his  side  when  he  charged  the  Church  with  favouring  Manichieism 
by  her  idolatry  of  virginity.  To  the  same  purport  eee  Cmtra  duafi 
cput.  Pelag.  b.  i.  c.  I,     Contra  Julian,  b.  i,  c.  2. 

21* 


234 


FANATICISM 


OF   THE    SYMBOL. 


235 


^4l 


m 


natural  progression  of  his  sentiments  involves  another 
unfavourable  turn  ;  for  the  public  course  he  pursues, 
and  the  emergencies  which,  as  head  of  a  party,  he 
encounters,  present  many  occasions  wherein  neither 
his  enthusiasm  nor  his  Ainaticism — neither  poetry  nor 
tragedy,  will  bear  him  clear  of  the  perplexing  embar- 
rassments that  surround  him. —  He  has  recourse 
therefore  to  guile ;  and  from  that  fatal  moment  every 
sentiment  assumes  a  new  relative  position,  or  itself 
undergoes  transformation.  It  is  as  when  a  single 
drop  of  some  potent  essence  is  suffused  in  a  chemical 
compound ;  what  just  before  was  colourless,  or  of  a 
brilliant  hue,  is  now,  and  in  a  moment,  turgid  ;  the 
splendour  of  the  rainbow  is  gone  ;  an  earthy  feculence 
clouds  the  liquor; — heat  too  is  evolved,  and  noxious 
fumes  rise  from  the  surface. 

The  despot  remains  nearly  the  same  from  the 
commencement  to  the  close  of  his  career ;  for  pride 
and  hatred  are  steady  qualities,  and  arrogance  is 
stagnant.  But  the  demagogue,  or  factious  leader, 
passes  through  three  stages  of  character  at  least ;  and 
when  he  come  to  the  goal  is  often  hardly  to  be  recog- 
nized as  the  being  who  started.  The  Despot  too,  is 
very  nearly  the  same  personage  under  every  diversity 
of  ecclesiastical  system.  But  the  sectarist  or  schis- 
matic receives  a  specific  character  from  the  circum- 
stances that  surround  him,  and  from  the  qualities  of 
the  body  from  which  he  breaks  off.  This  accidental 
influence  may  be  either  for  tlie  worse  or  the  better; 
and  in  truth  when  the  body  is  in  an  extreme  degree 
corrupt,  and  the  objection  insisted  upon  by  the  sepa- 
ratist is  in  the  main  reasonable,  we  cannot  be  justified 
on  the  ground  merely^ of  some  extravagance  or 
vehenience  of.  conduct,  to  designate  the  Objector  as  a 
Fanatic.  A  man  who  takes  up  a  righteous  cause  may 
speak  or  act  fanatically,  and  yet  well  deserve  our 
respect  and  gratitude.  He  alone  should  be  called 
fanatic,  whose  course  of  conduct  was  at  first  prompted 
by  impetuous  passions  ;  and  who  throughout  it,  shrinks 
from  the  calm  ordeal  of  reason* 


Protestantism  has  been  reproached  on  account  of 
its  fruitiulness  in  factions :  the  same  reproach  unques- 
tionably attaches,  and  in  an  equal  degree,  to  the 
ancient  Church,  and  especially  in  the  era  of  its  highest 
secular  prosperity.  But  the  Church  of  Rome  boasts 
of  her  unity ;  and  she  may  be  allowed  to  do  so.  Not 
now  to  mention  the  terrible  means  she  has  employed 
to  quash  rising  scliism,  we  should  bear  in  mind  that 
main  principle  of  her  polity  which  has  left  a  wide 
field  o()en  always  to  spiritual  enterprise  and  ambition. 
Protestant  Churches  have  failed  to  calculate  upon 
certain  unalterable  tendencies  of  human  nature,  and 
Iiave  made  no  provision  for  giving  vent  to  exuberant 
zeal.  The  very  same  minds  which,  during  the  first 
four  centuries,  or  among  ourselves,  would  have 
lieaded  a  faction,  and  given  their  name  to  a  hostile 
and  separate  communion,  have,  under  the  fostering 
care  of  the  Papacy,  lent  their  extravagance  to  the 
Church  itself,  and  have  proved  its  most  efficient 
supporters. 

Either  as  Founder  of  a  new  order,  or  as  Regenerator 
of  an  old  one,  energetic  and  ungovernable  spirits  saw 
before  them  at  all  times  an  open  field.  It  is  true  that 
a  curbing  hand  was  held  by  the  popes  upon  this 
species  of  ambition ;  yet  the  restraint  was  not  more 
than  enough  to  enhance,  by  difliculty,  the  passion  for 
enterprise.  The  young  and  frenzied  devotee,  after 
astounding  the  monasteries  of  his  native  province 
by  unheard-of  severities — by  portentous  whims — by 
\  wastings,  whippings,  visions,  ecstacies ;  and  after 
imposing  upon  his  superiors  an  unfeigned  terror  by 
turbulences  of  behaviour — always  thoroughly  catholic, 
and  thereibre  so  much  the  more  difficult  to  be  dealt 
with,  obtained  their  ready  leave  (with  flaming  creden- 
tials in  his  hand)  to  beg  his  way  bare-foot  from  Spain, 
France,  or  Germany,  to  Rome. — At  the  foot  of  the 
Sovereign  Pontiff'  he  threw  himself  in  the  dust — 
prostrate,  body  and  soul : — there  he  wept  and  raved 
his    season: — already   he    had    vowed    himself   the 


236 


FAIfATIClSM 


OF    THE   SYMBOL. 


237 


,  I 


^  dauntless  Chevalier  of  the  Virgin,"  and  only  waited 
permission  to  fight  her  battles,  and  those  of  the 
Church,  under  sanction  of  its  Head.  During  the 
weeks  or  months  of  suspense,  his  austerities  and  his 
pretensions  roused  a  hundred  jealousies  among  the 
comers  and  goers  of  the  papal  court:  feuds  and 
seditions  made  a  perpetual  din  under  the  windows  of 
tlie  Vatican ;  and  it  seemed  as  if  all  tlte  demons  had 
flocked  together  to  thwart  if  possible  the  holy  purpose, 
of  the  new  adventurer,  from  whose  hand  they 
expected  many  a  terrible  buffet.  At  length  the  Holy 
See,  having  proved  the  constancy  of  the  candidate*; 
or  shall  we  rather  say>  having  ascertained  that  his 
frenzy  was  of  the  sort  which,  though  it  might  be 
managed,  could  not  be  repressed,  and  glad  to  rid 
itself  of  the  importunity,  grafted  the  desired  sanctioa, 
and  signed  the  Brief.* 

The  Founder  or  the  Reformer,  now  big  with  a 
Kcence  that  would  reach  all  extents  of  absurdity,  paced 
his  way  back — patrician  mendicant !  to  his  native 
mountains.     Monasteries  spring  up  about  him  in  each 

• 

*  The  career  of  Ignatias  Loyola  combinee,  in  the  most  complete 
manner,  all  the  proper  elements  of  ambitious  sectarian  fanaticism; 
and  a  well  written  life  of  this  illustrious  founder  might  subserve  other 
purposes  than  that  of  exhibiting  the  folly,  knavery,  and  superstition, 
that  are  encouraged  by  the  papacy.    We  much  need — protestants  as 
we  are,  to  have  placed  before  us,  and  for  our  instruction,  those  vivid 
instances  of  delusion  and  extravagance  which  the  annals  of  the  Romish 
Church  so  abundantly  furnish.     Whoever  has  closely  and  calmly 
watched  the  growth  and  maturity  of  fanatical  illusion  in  the  case  of 
certain  noted  individuals  that  still  figure  on  the  stage  of  ghostly  am- 
bition, must  have  become  convinced  that  nothing  but  accidents  and 
names  —  costume  and   phrase,  often  distinguishes  canonized  from 
uncanonized  heroes.     Might  it  be  hoped  that  the  parties  themselves, 
or  at  least  their  well-read  chiefs,  would  look  into  the  glass  of  history, 
and  catching  there  their  own  resemblances,  draw  an  inference  of 
incalculable  importance  !     Would  any  one  who  retains  a  particle  of 
good  sense  or  sober  Christian  feeling  wish  to  find  that  his  public 
course  has  been,  in  its  essential  motives,  and  in  very  many  of  its  cir- 
cwnstances,  the  counterpart  of  that  of  men  whose  names  are  signalized 
as  the  spiritual  fathers  of  innumerable  cruelties,  impostures,  and  cor- 
ruptions ?     Let  Gonzales  and  Ribadeneira  be  read  and  digested  by 
any  who,  while  panting  for  the  notoriety  of  miracle,  are  forgetting 
truth,  honour,  reason,  faith,  virtue. 


cleft  of  the  rocks: — his  rule  attracts  every  moon- 
stricken  brain  of  the  province  ;  and  in  a  year  or  two 
he  moves  about,  the  admired  patron  of  insanity — far 
and  near.  Such,  in  substance,  has  been  the  history  of 
scores  of  adventurers  who,  had  it  been  their  ill  luck  to 
be  born  on  protestant  ground,  could  have  done  nothing 
more  illustrious  than  give  an  ignoble  name  to  an  ignoble 
sect — have  troubled  their  own  age  by  angry  divisions, 
and  have  conferred  upon  three  centuries  after  them, 
the  burden  of  some  hard-to-be-uttered  epithet  of 
faction. 

Deprived  of  its  monkish  apparatus  (considered  only 
as  a  means  of  drawing  off' restless  ambition)  the  Romish 
hierarchy  could  not  have  stood  its  ground  so  long. 
Only  let  us  follow  up  to  its  consequences  the  supposi- 
tion that  it  had  had,  age  after  age,  to  contend  with  the 
dauntless  spirits  that  originated  or  restored  the  several 
orders — with  St.  Dominic,  and  St.  Francis  ;  with  St. 
Bernard,  with  Loyola,  and  with  De  Ranee ;  in  that 
case  it  had  long  ago  been  rent  and  scattered  to  the 
winds. 

So  far  as  considerations  of  this  sort  should  be  allow- 
ed to  influence  spiritual  affairs,  the  question  would 
deserve  to  be  entertained.  Whether  a  permanent  and 
readily  available  provision  should  not  be  made  within 
the  arms  of  a  protestant  church  for  giving  a  range  to 
those  extraordinary  dispositions  and  talents  which  in 
all  times  make  their  appearance,  and  which,  if  not 
preoccupied,  do  not  fail  grievously  to  trouble  the  com- 
munity that  neglects  them. 

Fanaticism,  we  have  said,  has  first  an  active  or  tur- 
bulent, and  then  a  settled  and  moderated  form ;  for 
that  which  begins  with  inflammatory  symptoms,  sub- 
sides into  a  chronic  derangement.  In  its  earlier  state 
it  attaches  chiefly  to  minds  of  inferior  quality ;  but  in 
its  latter  it  insidiously  invades  the  most  generous,  vigor- 
ous, and  accomplished;  and  from  these  it  draws  a 
thousand  recommendations  that  ensure  to  it  credit  and 
perpetuity.     So  was  it  (as  we  have  seen)  with  tho 


i|!i 


u 


238 


FANATICISM 


OF   THE   SYMBOL. 


239 


1%  ' 

15    ■ :  I 


m 


iif 


frenzy  of  asceticism,  which,  after  raging  among  the 
vulgar — the  Anthonys  and  the  Symeons  of  Egypt  and 
Syria,  became  epidemic  in  the  high  places  of  the 
Church,  and  overpowered  the  sense  and  piety  of  Basil, 
Gregory,  Chrysostom,  Jerom.  So  again  the  fanatic 
cruelty  of  intolerance,  at  first  entertained  only  by  the 
basest  natures,  crept  at  length  upon  the  noble  ;  and  a 
Ximenes  is  seen  to  take  up  the  tools  of  a  Torquemada. 
And  so  with  the  fanaticism  of  religious  war ; — where 
Peter  the  Hermit  and  Walter  the  Pennyless  led  the 
way,  Godfrey  and  Louis  follow,  with  Bernard  as  their 
guide. 

The  very  same  kind  of  progression  has  had  place, 
and  even  with  worse  consequences,  in  the  history  of 
the  Fanaticism  of  dogmas  and  creeds.  The  authors 
and  prime  agitators  of  controversy — the  men  whose 
plebeian  names  descend  as  an  obloquy  to  after  ages, 
have  (with  a  few  exceptions)  possessed  but  a  poor 
title  to  celebrity  ;  and,  apart  from  the  turbulence  of 
their  tempers,  or  their  insatiable  ambition,  could  never 
have  attracted  the  attention  of  mankind.  But  the 
agitation  so  engendered  spreads ;  and  at  length  none 
can  well  avoid  ranging  themselves  on  this  side  or  on 
that  of  the  question :  great  talents  and  solid  virtues  are 
drawn  into  the  vortex ;  and  so  it  happens  that,  while 
the  ostensible  mischiefs  of  strife — the  rancour  and  the 
violence  of  th(^  feud  are  moderated,  its  essential  evils 
are  deepened,  and  rendered  permanent. — A  christian 
country,  or  a  community,  is  in  this  manner  cast  into  a 
factious  condition,  and  in  that  state  abides  age  after 
age.  But  factious  religionism,  how  much  soever  it 
may  have  been  tamed  and  curbed,  will  not  fail  to  be 
encircled  by  wide  spread  impiety,  and  infidelity,  as  the 
direct  effects  of  the  scandal  of  division. — Factions, 
moreover,  benumb  the  expansive  powers  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  prevent  its  spread. — They  create  too  a 
universal  confusion,  entanglement,  and  perversion  of 
religious  notions.  No  inquiry  can  be  calmly  prose- 
cuted, no  results  of  solitary  meditation  can  be  safely 


reported,  nothing  can  be  looked  at  in  its  native  form, 
so  long  as  the  jealousies  and  the  interests  of  eight  or 
ten  ancient  and  corporate  factions  spread  themselves 
over  the  field  of  theology.  Even  those  few  insulated 
articles  of  Christian  belief  or  speculation,  or  of  abstruse 
science,  which  have  not  been  claimed  by  party  zeal, 
are  often  found  to  alarm  the  wakeful  fears  of  this  or 
that  guardian  of  sectarism,  merely  because  the  method 
of  argument  which  may  have  been  employed  in  such 
instances  is  foreseen  to  have  a  bearing  upon  matters 
that  are  to  be  held  inviolable. — The  opinion  in  itself 
may  be  innocent  enough ;  but  the  logic  that  sustains 
it  is  dangerous. — Better  then  quash  at  once  the  suspi- 
cious novelty,  which,  though  it  may  be  good  and  true, 
is  not  momentous,  than  favour  it,  and  so  open  the  door 
to  no  one  can  say  what  innovations  ! 

So  poor,  so  timid,  so  feeble,  so  inert,  so  grovelling, 
so  infatuated,  is  the  human  mind  !  Truth,  which  alone 
can  be  permanently  advantageous,  and  which  alone 
can  reward  labour  or  compensate  losses,  is  looked  at 
and  listened  to  with  eagle-eyed  alarm  ;  nor  is  enter- 
tained until  she  has  protested,  ten  times  over,  that  she 
means  to  rob  us  of  nothing  we  dote  upon. 

Less  than  two  hundred  years  ago — even  so  late  as 
the  close  of  the  seventeenth  century,  this  very  same 
sectarian  infatuation,  this  fanaticism  of  the  creed  and 
symbol,  enthralled  the  physical  and  abstruse  sciences, 
throughout  Europe.  No  process  of  nature^  no  me- 
chanic law,  could  be  investigated  or  discussed  apart 
from  the  interference  of  the  fierce  jealousies  of  rival 
schools.  A  chemical  mixture  could  not  change  from 
blue  to  red,  from  transparent  to  opaque — an  apple 
could  not  fall  to  the  ground,  nay,  the  planets  might  not 
swing  through  their  orbits,  without  kindling  angry  feuds 
in  colleges.  Not  only  was  the  method  of  obtaining 
knowledge  utterly  misunderstood  ;  but  it  was  not  be- 
lieved, or  not  felt,  that  Knowledge  is  always  the  friend 
of  man,  and  his  coadjutor;  Error  his  enemy.  This 
degraded  condition  of  the  human  mind  was  at  last 


240 


FANATICISM 


OF   THE   SYMBOL. 


241 


m 


lili 


remedied  by  nothing  but  the  bringing  to  bear  upon  the 
Metaphysic-Piiysics  of  Des  Cartes  and  Aristotle,  a 
method  of  reasoning  so  absohitely  conclusive  that  re- 
sistance was  found  to  be  useless.  Prejudice  and  anti- 
quated jealousy  did  not  freely  yield  themselves  up  and 
dissolve: — they  were  undermined,  they  fell  in,  and 
were  seen  no  more. 

This  deliverance  of  Philosophy — a  very  recent  de- 
liverance, though  effected  within  a  particular  precinct 
of  inquiry  only,  rapidly  extended  itself  over  the  entire 
field  of  the  sciences.  Whether  or  not  immediate 
success  attended  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  every  thing 
was  scouted  but  its  attainment.  The  scientific  com- 
munity blushed  at  the  fond  folly  of  ranging  itself  under 
rival  leaders  ; — it  coalesced  as  one  body  or  phalanx, 
advancing  under  one  banner. 

Can  it  be  conceived  of  as  a  thing  even  possible  that 
pure  reason  should  have  had  sway  in  philosophy  so 
lono-  as  the  interests  of  sects  were  to  be  cared  for  ? 
Those  two  powers.  Truth  and  Party,  were  not  in  fact 
contemporary  scarcely  a  year  ;  or  contemporary  only 
as  Ni^ht  and  Day  are  so,  through  the  hasty  moments 
of  twilight.  Indeed  the  mere  existence  of  factions  in 
any  department  of  opinion,  is  a  conclusive  proof  that 
the  method  of  inquiry,  in  that  department,  has  not  yet 
been  found  ;  or  at  least  is  not  generally  understood. 

Causes  which  need  hardly  be  specified,  have  hitherto 
excluded  from  the  precincts  of  Theology  the  reform 
that  has  spread  through  every  department  of  natural 
science. — The  dogmatic  fanaticism  which  raged  at  the 
time  of  the  Reformation,  passed  down  uncorrected 
upon  the  political  and  ecclesiastical  constitutions  of 
the  northern  nations  of  Europe,  and  especially  upon 
those  of  England,  and  it  now  firmly  grasps  the  religious 
commonwealth.  The  violence  of  religious  strife  has 
indeed  long  died  away  ;  or  it  breaks  out  only  for  a 
moment;  but  no  relief  has  yet  been  administered  to 
the  settled  ill  consequences  of  that  delirium.  So  far 
as  we  are  religious  at  all,  the  English  people  is  a  nation 


of  sects,  and  our  theology  is  necessarily  the  theology 
of  faction. — Not  a  false  theology — thank  God;  but  a 
theology  that  is  contused,  entangled,  and  imperfect, 
gloomy ; — a  theology  which,  while  it  abundantly  breeds 
infidelity  among  the  educated  classes,  fails  to  spread 
through  the  body  of  the  population,  and  but  dimly,  or 
only  as  a  flickering  candle,  illumines  the  world. 

The  recent  consolidation  of  religious  liberty,  while 
it  may  fairly  be  hailed  as  an  auspicious  event,  and 
likely  to  bring  about  at  length  the  disappearance  of 
faction,  is  utterly  misunderstood  by  those  who  regard 
it  as  equivalent  to  the  emancipation  of  Christianity. 
Far  from  being  the  same  thing,  this  overthrow  of  ec- 
clesiastical despotism  has,  in  its  immediate  effects,  as 
was  natural,  highly  inflamed  the  sectarian  sentiment, 
or  has  given  it  a  new  birth.  The  exultation  of  the 
triumphant  party,  and  the  discontent  of  the  defeated 
party,  have,  in  different  modes,  infused  an  energy  into 
the  virulence  of  both,  which  seems  not  unlikely  to  pro- 
long the  existence  of  our  absurd  divisions,  perhaps  a 
fifty  years. 

A  happier  destiny  may  sooner  break  upon  us  !  But 
whether  it  does  or  not,  it  is  certain  that  an  unobtrusive 
power  has  been  some  while  at  work  beneath  the  entire 
ground  of  our  sectarian  edifices — a  power  which  must 
(unless  arrested)  inevitably  in  the  end,  bring  them  down 
to  the  abyss. — The  philosophy  of  the  schools  sunk  to 
rise  no  more  when  the  true  method  of  science  gained 
its  first  indisputable  triumph.  But  although  the  same 
method  is  not  formally  applicable  to  theology,  yet  the 
principle  of  it  is  so,  and  is  actually  in  its  incipient 
stage  of  application — or  perhaps  has  gone  a  step  be- 
yond that  stage.*     The  art  of  criticism  and  the  true 

*  Many  more  talk  of  the  Baconian  method  than  seem  to  be 
masters  of  it ;  or  than  have  probably  ever  read  ten  pages  of  the 
Novum  Organon.  The  assertion  may  be  hazarded  that,  even  in  the 
walks  of  physical  science,  multitudes  of  those  who  are  pretty  well 
versed  in  the  actual  products  of  the  modern  philosophy,  have  not  a 
conception  of  the  principle  of  investigation  as  set  on  foot  by  Bacon. 
This  ignorance  is  still  more  prevalent  on  the  side  of  Intellectual, 

22 


240 


FANATICISM 


remedied  by  nothing  but  the  bringing  to  bear  upon  the 
Metaphysic-Piiysics  of  Des  Cartes  and  Aristotle,  a 
method  of  reasoning  so  absohitely  conclusive  that  re- 
sistance was  found  to  be  useless.  Prejudice  and  anti- 
quated jealousy  did  not  freely  yield  themselves  up  and 
dissolve : — they  were  undermined,  they  fell  in,  and 
were  seen  no  more. 

This  deliverance  of  Philosophy — a  very  recent  de- 
liverance, though  effected  within  a  particular  precinct 
of  inquiry  only,  rapidly  extended  itself  over  the  entire 
field  of  the  sciences.  Whether  or  not  immediate 
success  attended  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  every  thing 
was  scouted  but  its  attainment.  The  scientific  com- 
munity blushed  at  the  fond  folly  of  ranging  itself  under 
rival  leaders ; — it  coalesced  as  one  body  or  phalanx, 
advancing  under  one  banner. 

Can  it  be  conceived  of  as  a  thing  even  possible  that 
pure  reason  should  have  had  sway  in  philosophy  so 
long  as  the  interests  of  sects  were  to  be  cared  for  ? 
Those  two  powers,  Truth  and  Party,  were  not  in  fact 
contemporary  scarcely  a  year  ;  or  contemporary  only 
as  Nijijht  and  Day  are  so,  through  the  hasty  moments 
of  twilight.  Indeed  the  mere  existence  of  factions  in 
any  department  of  opinion,  is  a  conclusive  proof  that 
the  method  of  inquiry,  in  that  department,  has  not  yet 
been  found  ;  or  at  least  is  not  generally  understood. 

Causes  which  need  hardly  be  specified,  have  hitherto 
excluded  from  the  precincts  of  Theology  the  reform 
that  has  spread  through  every  department  of  natural 
science. — The  dogmatic  fanaticism  which  raged  at  the 
time  of  the  Reformation,  passed  down  uncorrected 
upon  the  political  and  ecclesiastical  constitutions  of 
the  northern  nations  of  Europe,  and  especially  upon 
those  of  England,  and  it  now  firmly  grasps  the  religious 
commonwealth.  The  violence  of  religious  strife  has 
indeed  long  died  away  ;  or  it  breaks  out  only  for  a 
moment;  but  no  relief  has  yet  been  administered  to 
the  settled  ill  consequences  of  that  delirium.  So  far 
as  we  are  religious  at  all,  the  English  people  is  a  natioa 


OF   THE    SYMBOL. 


241 


of  sects,  and  our  theology  is  necessarily  the  theology 
of  faction. — Not  a  false  theology — thank  God  ;  but  a 
theology  that  is  contused,  entangled,  and  imperfect, 
gloomy ; — a  theology  which,  while  it  abundantly  breeds 
infidelity  among  the  educated  classes,  fails  to  spread 
through  the  body  of  the  population,  and  but  dimly,  or 
only  as  a  flickering  candle,  illumines  the  world. 

The  recent  consolidation  of  religious  liberty,  while 
it  may  fairly  be  hailed  as  an  auspicious  event,  and 
likely  to  bring  about  at  length  the  disappearance  of 
faction,  is  utterly  misunderstood  by  those  who  regard 
it  as  equivalent  to  the  emancipation  of  Christianity. 
Far  from  being  the  same  thing,  this  overthrow  of  ec- 
clesiastical despotism  has,  in  its  immediate  effects,  as 
was  natural,  highly  inflamed  the  sectarian  sentiment, 
or  has  given  it  a  new  birth.  The  exultation  of  the 
triumphant  party,  and  the  discontent  of  the  defeated 
party,  have,  in  different  modes,  infused  an  energy  into 
the  virulence  of  both,  which  seems  not  unlikely  to  pro- 
long the  existence  of  our  absurd  divisions,  perhaps  a 
fifty  years. 

A  happier  destiny  may  sooner  break  upon  us  !  But 
whether  it  does  or  not,  it  is  certain  that  an  unobtrusive 
power  has  been  some  while  at  work  beneath  the  entire 
ground  of  our  sectarian  edifices — a  power  which  must 
(unless  arrested)  inevitably  in  the  end,  bring  them  down 
to  the  abyss. — The  philosophy  of  the  schools  sunk  to 
rise  no  more  when  the  true  method  of  science  gained 
its  first  indisputable  triumph.  But  although  the  same 
method  is  not  formally  applicable  to  theology,  yet  the 
principle  of  it  is  so,  and  is  actually  in  its  incipient 
stage  of  application — or  perhaps  has  gone  a  step  be- 
yond that  stage.*     The  art  of  criticism  and  the  true 

*  Many  more  talk  of  the  Baconian  method  than  seem  to  be 
masters  of  it ;  or  than  have  probably  ever  read  ten  pages  of  the 
Novum  Organon,  The  assertion  may  be  hazarded  that,  even  in  the 
walks  of  physical  science,  multitudes  of  those  who  are  pretty  well 
versed  in  the  actual  products  of  the  modern  philosophy,  have  not  a 
conception  of  the  principle  of  investigation  as  set  on  foot  by  Bacon. 
This  ignorance  is  still  more  prevalent  on  the  side  of  Intellectual, 

22 


%f^  FANATICISM 

logic  of  Interpretation  must  restore  to  the  church 
(under  that  guidance  which  is  never  denied  when 
ingenuously  sought)  the  pure  meaning  of  Scripture. — 
The  charm  that  cements  petty  communions  will  then 
dissolve ;  the  excellence  of  Truth  will  be  felt,  and  the 
fanaticism  of  dogmas  will  die  away,  when  all  men 
learn  to  hold  in  contempt  every  thing  in  religion  but 
the  ascertained  sense  of  God's  Revelation.  Diversi- 
ties of  opinion  must  indeed  remain  so  long  as  there 
are  differences  of  intellectual  and  moral  power ;  but 
these  will  engender  no  heat,  and  will  produce  no 
divisions,  when  all  minds  shall  be  moving  on  toward 
one  and  the  same  centre. 

It  would  not  have  been  anticipated  as  possible,  that 
among  those  who  reverenced  the  Scriptures,  a  super- 
stition such  as  that  of  the  papacy  should  at  all  have 
had  existence.  But  history,  in  too  many  instances, 
and  in  this,  contradicts  reasonable  calculations,  and 
shews  that  the  perversity  of  man  may  thwart  every 
beneficent  provision  of  heaven.  In  like  manner  it 
might  have  been  thought  that  the  internal  constitution 
of  the  Inspired  Volume,  as  well  as  its  express  precepts, 

Ethical,  and  Theological  Science.    To  speak  only  of  the  latter,  it  is 
deemed  a  thoroughly  Baconian  process  to  adduce,  in  series,  all  the 
texts  that  bear  upon  a  certain  article  of  faith,  and  at  the  end  to  sum 
up  the  evidence.— This  is  called  Induction.     But  now  if  we  look  a 
little  closely  to  the  method  and  principle  of  interpretation,  as  apphed 
to  each  passage,  we  shall  find  that  the  prime  maxim  of  the  dogmatic 
and  scholastic  divinity,  which  demands  that  every  thing  should  be 
iudced  of  according   to  The   Analogy   of    Faith,  and    nothing 
admitted   which  cannot  be  reconciled  thereto,  or   which  mav  by 
inference  give  countenance  to  a  known  heresy,  rules  throughout. 
This  surely  is  not  to  learn  from  prophets  and  apostles,  but  to  teach 
them  •  and"  it  is  precisely  the  method  which  swayed  so  long  the  dark 
realms  of  pseudo-philosophy.    In  theology  we  have  the  forms  of  the 
inductive  method  often  where  there  is  little  or  nothing  of  its  substance. 
A  good  work  would  it  be  to  deduce  from  the  Novum  Organon  those 
capital  and  universal  principles  which  are  indeed  apphcable  to  Intel- 
lectual and  Sacred  Science.     Etiam  dubitavit  quispiam  potiiis  qu4m 
obiiciel,  utriim    nos  de  naturali  tantum  Philosophic,  an  etiam  de 
Scientiis  reliquis,  Logicis,  Ethicis,  Politicis,  secundum  viam  nostram 
perficiendis  loquamur.    At  nos  certe,  de  universis  HiEC,  (^uji 

DICTA  SUNT,  INTEIXIGIMUS. 


OP  THE   SYMBOL. 


243 


would  have  precluded  the  factions  that  have  rent  the 
Church  in  every  age.  It  has  not  been  so  ;  neverthe- 
less this  internal  constitution  well  deserves  our  atten- 
tion.— It  is  only  while  we  distinctly  regard  it  that  we 
can  see  in  a  proper  light  the  folly  of  those  disorders 
which  fill  out  the  volume  of  Church  history. 

Let  it  then  be  assumed  that  two  main  purposes 
were  to  be  secured  in  giving  a  written  rule  of  faith  to 
mankind,  namely,  first,  an  infallible  conveyance  of 
that  Principal  Sense  of  Revelation  which  is  essea- 
tial  to  genuine  piety ;  and  secondly,  such  a  convey- 
ance of  the  ADJUNCTIVE  or  secondary  portions  of 
religious  truth  as  should  render  despotic  determina- 
tions on  the  one  side,  and  scrupulous  schisms  on  th& 
other,  manifestly  unreasonable.  We  have  to  see  in 
what  manner  both  these  ends  are  provided  for  by  the 
actual  constitution  of  the  canon  of  Scripture. 

It  is  saying  little  to  affirm  that  no  composition^ 
whether  historical  or  didactic  (if  the  language  in 
which  it  is  written  be  understood)  fails  to  convey  to 
readers  of  ordinary  intelligence  the  Principal  Intention 
of  the  writer,  unless  indeed  he  himself  be  wanting  in 
sense,  or  designedly  conceals  his  meaning  under 
ambiguous  or  enigmatic  terms.  This  is  plainly  im- 
plied when  it  is  granted  that  language  is  a  good  and 
sufficient  means  of  communication  between  mind  and 
mind.  To  affirm  any  thing  less  were  to  stultify  human- 
ity, and  to  break  up  and  derange  the  entire  machinery 
of  the  social  system.  All  men  mi^ht  as  well  become 
anchorets  at  once,  if  indeed  language  is  found  to  be  a 
fallacious  medium  of  intellectual  exchange. 

And  what  is  true  of  oral  communication,  is  true 
also  (with  a  very  small  deduction)  of  written  commu- 
nication. Moreover  what  may  be  affirmed  concerning 
the  written  conveyance  of  thoughts  among  contempo- 
raries, becomes  liable  only  to  an  inconsiderable  dis- 
count, when  we  have  to  do  with  the  writings  of  past 
ages.  This  discount  is  much  reduced  if  the  composi- 
tion in  question  forms  part  of  a  vast  collection  of 


244 


FANATICISM 


contemporary  literature.  As  it  is  certain  that  men 
must  be  fools  or  knaves  when  permanent  misunder- 
standings arise  among  them  in  regard  to  the  mairi 
intention  of  their  personal  communications ;  so  is  it 
certain  that  the  principal  scope  of  a  book,  ancient  or 
modern,  is  always  to  be  known  where  both  writer  and 
reader  are  ingenuous. 

Nothing  less  then  than  an  extreme  perversity  of 
judgment,  such  as  renders  the  powers  of  language 
nugatory,  can,  in   any  case,  give   rise  to  an  entire 
misunderstanding    of    an    author's    principal    sense. 
Admit  only  these  ordinary  conditions — that  the  writer 
was  honest  and  of  sound  mind — that  he  was  master 
of  the  language  he  employs,  and  that  he  made  it  his 
serious  business  to  convey  to  his  reader  in  the  best 
way  he  could,  certain  capital  articles  of  information — 
historical  or  moral,  and  then  it  follows,  without  an 
exceptive   case,  that    his   meaning  on   those   prime 
articles  is  readily  attainable  by  whoever  himself  owns 
common  sense  and  a  competent  acquaintance  with 
the  writer's  language.     To  take  apart,  for  example, 
any  one   of  the   canonical   writers,   it   is  absolutely 
certain  that  the  leading  facts  or  dogmas  which  he 
means  to  teach,  stand  upon  the  surface  of  his  compo- 
sition.    Has  disagreement  arisen  in  regard  to  these 
main  facts  or  dogmas  ? — nothing  less  than  the  egre- 
gious wilfulness  of  the  human  mind  can  have  caused  it. 
On  the  ground  of  the  admitted  principles  of  lan- 
guage and  of  historic  evidence,  any  one  of  the  Gospels, 
with  the  Acts,  and  any  one  of  the  larger  epistles, 
would  amply  and  indubitably  have  handed  down  to  us 
the  SUBSTANCE  of  apostolic  Christianity.     If  it  be  not 
so — a  thousand  tomes  cannot  do  it. — If  it  be  not  so, 
we  might  stand  by  with  indifference  and  see  another 
Amrou  throwing  his  brand  upon  a  pyre  that  should 
contain  every  existing  relic  of  antiquity. 

But  the  Divine  indulgence  has  far  exceeded  neces- 
sary bounds  in  affording  to  mankind  the  materials  of 
sacred  knowledge.   No  parsimony  is  to  be  complained 


OF   THE   SVMBOL. 


245 


of  on  the  part  of  the  Instructor :  nothing  is  wanted 
but  ingenuousness  in  the  scholar.  The  great  articles 
of  belief  and  duty  have  come  to  us  through  the  instru- 
mentality of  nearly  forty  writers,  to  each  of  whom  was 
allowed  his  eiitire  and  undisturbed  mental  indimdu- 
ality — his  personal  temper  and  taste,  his  own  style, 
both  of  sentiment  and  of  language,  together  with 
whatever  speciality,  either  of  sentiment  or  of  language, 
he  might  draw  from  the  influence  of  time  and  country. 
Each  writer,  while  the  track  of  his  thoughts  is  steered 
by  an  unseen  hand,  moves  on  in  a  spontaneous  course. 
Can  any  provision  be  added  to  this  arrangement  which 
should  promise  to  exclude  the  possibility  of  a  failure  in 
transmitting  the  elements  of  religious  knowledge  ? 
Let  it  be  imagined  that,  out  of  the  forty,  two  or  three, 
or  even  seven,  were  obscure,  abrupt,  elliptical,  mystic: 
— ^j^et  all  will  not  be  so: — for  one  whose  style  is 
emblematic  or  difficult,  there  will  (on  common  prin- 
ciples of  probability)  be  five  that  are  natural  and 
perspicuous. 

But  we  have  asked  for  another  security  against 
failure  in  the  conveyance  of  the  main  points  of  religion; 
and  we  find  it  in  the  fact  that  this  congeries  of  wit- 
nesses has  been  drawn,  not  from  one  century,  but 
from  the  course  of  fifteen.  Whatever  diversity  time 
can  impart  is  by  this  means  included — So  broad  is 
the  base  of  that  pyramid  which  was  to  stand  through 
all  ages,  pointing  man  to  the  skies  !  Are  we  then  to 
be  told  that  what  prophets  and  apostles  believed,  and 
what  they  taught  to  their  contemporaries,  and  what 
they  intended  to  transmit  to  posterity,  comes  down 
to  us  under  an  impenetrable  obscurity  ?  No  miracle 
would  be  so  hard  of  belief  as  this. 

It  need  not  be  added  that  the  correlative  security  of 
ancient  versions  and  interpretations,  in  endless  abund- 
ance and  variety,  surrounds  these  documents  of  our 
faith,  and  every  way  precludes  the  chances  of  capital 
error  in  relation  to  the  Principal  Sense  of  the  whole. 

There  is  an  infirmity  of  the  mind  which  impels  us, 

22^ 


246 


FANATICISM 


on   many   occasions,  to   overlook    or  distrust    those 
special  circumstances  whereon  our  welfare  really  de- 
pends, while  we  anxiously  search   for  provisions  of 
safety  that  either  are    utterly  unattainable,   or   that 
would  be  pernicious  if  possessed.     How  often  have 
feeble  minds  (and  perhaps  some  strong  minds)  wished 
that  a  perpetual  miraculous  interposition  had  been  ac- 
corded, such  as  should   have  exempted  the  Inspired 
Writings  from  the  accidents  and  ordinary  conditions 
that  attend  other  compositions,  and  that  affect  ancient 
literature  in  the  course  of  its  transmission  from  age  to 
age.     Given  at  first  by  supernatural  means — why  has 
it  not  been  accompanied  and   preserved  by  miracle 
through  the  periods  of  its  descent  to  our  times  ? 

Need  we  reply — because  it  is  from  these  very  dis- 
paragements (if  such  they  should  be  deemed)  that  are 
to  be  gathered  the  best  evidences  of  the  genuineness 
of  the  document  itself.  And  it  might  be  added — be- 
cause the  accidental  difficulties  or  obscurities  that  be- 
long to  the  Scriptures  in  common  with  all  other  lit- 
erary remains  of  antiquity,  have  a  direct  tendency  (it 
we  wnll  but  admit  it)  to  disturb  and  put  to.  shame  the 
senseless  superstition — the  doting  upon  particles,  and 
worshipping  of  iotas,  which  makes  duty  and  faith  to 
hang  upon  this  or  that  etymology  or  syllable.* 


*  It  is  perhaps  quite  unnecessary  to  point  out  the  conspicuous  dis- 
tinction between  an  overweening  zeal  for  this  or  that  interpretation 
of  single  passages  or  phrases — and  the  laudible  endeavour  of  the  critie 
to  ascertain,  first,  the  real  text  of  an  inspired  writer  ;  and  then,  the 
actual  sense  in  which  his  words  were  understood  by  the  persons  to 
whom  they  were  addressed.     We  have  affirmed  above,  that  the  Scrip- 
tures, like  all  other  rational  compositions,  will  not  fail  to  convey  their 
principal  sense  to  every  ingenuous  mind,  if  the  language  in  which  they 
were  written  is  really  and  fully  known  to  the  reader.     Now  the  impor- 
tant labours  of  Biblical  critic  are  directed  to  this  very  purpose  of 
putting  the  modern  reader  (so  faY  ao  is  possible)  into  the  position  of 
the  ancient  reader.      Dogmatic  interpretation  should  not — cannot 
reasonably  commence,  until  the  language,  with  all  its  essential  pro- 
prieties, is  brought  under  our  familiar  cognizance.    If  there  be  any 
usage  of  words,  any  principFe  of  construction,  any  special  sense  of 
terms,  the  knowledge  of  which  is  important  to  an  exact  grammatical 
rendering  of  the  sacred  text,  the  utmost  diligence  should  be  employed 


OP   THE    SYMBOL. 


58*r 


Of  all  impracticable  miracles  (if  the  solecism  may 
be  pardoned)  the  most  impracticable  and  inconceiv- 
able would  be  that  which  should  exempt  a  mass  of  an- 
cient writing  from  those  accidents  whence  ambiguity 
or  difficulty  of  interpretation,  in  single  instances,  arises. 
Any  such  interposition,  to  have  been  effectual,  must 
not  only  have  extended  through  the  original  document, 
imparting  to  each  sentence,  phrase,  and  word,  an  insu- 
lated perfection,  and  imbuing  each  verse  with  a  sort 
of  phosphorescence  ;  but  must  have  pervaded  all  times 
and  places,  guiding  the  hand  of  every  drowsy  copyist, 
and  inspiring  every  translator.  Nor  would  even  this 
have  been  enough ;  for  the  miracle,  to  have  subserved 
any  practical  purpose,  must  have  reached  as  well  to 
the  reader  of  Scripture,  as  to  the  writers  and  tran- 
scribers : — all  minds  must  have  enjoyed  the  very  same 
measure  of  native  power — must  have  possessed  the 
same  preparatory  knowledge,  the  same  simphcity  of 
purpose,  the  same  temper,  industry,  and  power  of  re- 
tention.—-First  the  book  a  perpetual  miracle ;  and  then 
every  reader  a  prophet  !  The  simpler  method  surely 
would  have  been  for  a  voice  to  have  sounded  inces- 
santly from  the  sky,  repeating  everv  hour  the  monoto- 
nv  of  Truth  ! 

The  Divine  machinery  is  of  another  sort ;  and  our 
gratitude,  informed  by  reason,  should  follov>-  the  steps 
of  that  wisdom  which  adapts  common  inst)  uments  as 
well  to  extraordinary  as  to  ordinary  occasious  ;  and  so 

in  fixing  beyond  doubt  the  rule,  with  its  exceptions.  AV  iien  erudition 
has  done  its  utmost  on  such  occasions,  it  has  donenothi  ig  more  than 
bring  our  modern  mind  into  contact  with  the  mind  of  the  writer. 
Thus,  for  exaniple,  the  inestimable  labours  of  Bishop  Middletnn,  and 
others,  have  just  served  to  annul  the  disadvantage  of  receiving  the 
testimony  of  the  apostles  on  the  most  important  doctrine  of  the  New 
Testament,  through  the  medium  of  a  dead  language.  The  critic,  in 
such  a  case,  and  so  far  as  his  labours  extend,  resuscitates  the  Greek 
of  the  apostolic  age  ;  and  gives  us  the  benefit  of  listening  to  the  liv- 
ing voice  of  Paul,  Peter,  and  John.  Preposterous  then,  as  well  as 
illiberal,  is  the  objection  of  those  who  endeavour  to  evade  the  force  of 
irresistible  evidence  by  saying  that  the  doctrine  of  the  ar'icle  is  a  triv- 
ial matter. 


248 


FANATICISM 


adapts  them,  as  to  include  various  ends  in  one  and  the 
same  system  of  means. 

Do  we  possess  the  rational  satisfaction  of  perusmg 
the  history  of  our  Lord's  ministry  in  the  words  of  four 
writers  ?  Yes,  but  this  important  advantage  is  taxed 
with  the  inconvenience  (if  such  it  be)  of  presenting 
frequent  diversities  of  circumstance,  order,  and  phrase- 
ology. Now  can  we  really  wish  that  the  evangelic 
records  had  been  so  exempted  from  the  operation  of 
ordinary  causes  as  w^ould  have  been  requisite  for 
excluding  every  diversity  ?  Are  we  willing  that  these, 
the  most  important  of  all  historical  compositions, 
should  forfeit  the  special  characteristics  that  mark 
them  as  original  and  genuine  writings,  for  the  sake  of 
our  being  saved  the  infirm  disquietudes  of  a  supersti- 
tious temper?  Those  who  will,  with  a  blind  and 
perilous  pertinacity,  rest  their  belief  upon  a  verbal 
exactitude,  meet  a  proper  rebuke  when  they  find  that 
evangelists  and  apostles,  with  the  freedom  that  is 
natural  to  truth  and  honesty,  are  negligent  of  matters 
that  in  no  way  affect  the  vast  aflfairs  committed  to 
their  trust.— If  critics  are  sometimes  frivolous,  the 
Apostles  were  no  triflers. 

Who or  who  that  understands  and  respects  the 

laws  of  testimony,  does  not  gladly  turn  from  secondary 
evidence,  though  more  methodical  and  perspicuous, 
to  original  evidence,  even  though  charged,  as  it  almost 
always  is  when  genuine,  with  incompleteness  in  the 
details,  with  apparent  inconsistencies,  and  with  a  hun- 
dred unexplained  allusions  ?  The  compiler  of  history 
is  an  Interpreter  of  the  story :  not  so  the  contem- 
porary and  original  narrator  of  facts,  who  seldom  or 
never  turns  aside  from  the  vivid  objects  that  fill  his 
mind,  to  provide  for  the  ignorance,  or  to  prevent  the 
cavils  of  posterity.  Unless  we  be  slaves  of  supersti- 
tion, we  shall  then  hail  with  pleasure  those  very  im- 
perfections (imperfections  they  are  not)  which  mark 
the  canonical  books— historical,  didactic,  and  epistola- 
tory,  as  unquestionably  genuine.     Thankfully  shall  we 


or   THE    SYMBOL. 


249 


embrace  those  obscurities  which  are  the  seal  of  Truth. 
Deprived  of  its  difficulties,  every  well  informed  mind 
would  be  staggered  in  admitting  the  Bible  to  be  what 
it  professes. 

And  yet  from  this  distinctive  glory  of  the  documents 
of  our  religion  are  drawn,  by  the  superstition  and  the 
overweening  dogmatism  of  zealots,  endless  occasions 
of  strife.  That  abrupt  form  which  belongs  to  original 
evidence,  is  a  rock  whereon  wranglers  of  every  age 
have  split.  Some  usage — some  circumstance  or  cere- 
monial, infinitely  trivial,  but  which  a  compiler  of  his- 
tory might  probably  have  supplied  or  explained,  is 
left  open  to  conjecture  in  the  apostolic  record.  Alas 
the  lamentable  omission !  Why  did  the  inspired 
writers  drudge  us  the  single  decisive  particle  which 
must  have  excluded  doubt  ?  So  docs  the  zealot  repine 
in  secret  over  the  sacred  page.  But  in  public  he 
loudly  denies  any  such  deficiency  of  evidence  in  refer- 
ence to  the  disputed  point. — Among  his  followers,  and 
in  presence  of  the  simple,  he  becomes  hoarse  in  pro- 
testing the  demonstrable  certainty  of  his  assumptions. 
— Language,  he  assures  us,  has  no  means  left  for  mak- 
ing plainer  than  it  is,  what  was  the  apostolic  usage  in 
this  matter ! 

A  signal  advantage  it  is  that  the  Scriptures  (of  the 
New  Testament  especially)  have  traversed  the  wide 
and  perilous  w^aters  of  Time,  not  on  one  keel  onK% 
but  a  thousand.  No  ancient  text  has  been  so  abun- 
dantly secured  from  important  corruption  as  the  text 
of  the  New  Testament :  in  the  present  state  of  critical 
science,  who  entertains  a  doubt  of  its  substantial  in- 
tegrity ?  But  the  consequence,  the  inevitable  conse- 
quence of  this  multifarious  transmission  of  copies  has 
been  the  origination  of  innumerable  verbal  variations. 
Here  again  the  superstition  w  hich  dotes  upon  jots  and 
tittles,  is  broken  in  upon.  Heaven  has  treated  us  as 
Men;  and  it  supposes  that  we  shall  prefer  what  is 
truly  valuable  to  what  is  trivial.  We  receive  a  most 
important  confirmation  of  our  faith ;  but  are  denied 


250 


FANATICISM 


the  fond  and  idle  satisfaction  of  possessing  a  Text  for 
every  particle  of  which,  and  for  the  position  of  every 
syllable  and  letter,  Divine  authority  might  be  chal- 
lenged. Are  we  still  disquieted  and  discontented  ?  It  is 
manifest  then  that  our  estimate  of  what  is  desirable 
differs  widely  from  that  of  the  Author  of  Revelation. 
He  has  bestowed  upon  us  the  better  and  the  greater 
advantage ;  we  fretfully  demand  the  less. 

Entertainment  (and  instruction  too)  might  be  drawn 
from  an  exhibition  of  certain  instances  in  which,  if  we 
had  actually  possessed  fewer  means  of  information 
than  we  do,  we  might  have  pronounced  decisively 
upon  points  that  are  made  questionable  by  the  addi- 
tional evidence. — If  one  apostle  only  had  spoken,  we 
should  have  been  free  to  dogmatize  stoutly ;  but  two 
have  glanced  at  the  matter ;  and  we  are  plunged  into 
doubt !  Sometimes,  as  we  have  seen,  the  sacred 
writers  say  too  little  ;  and  anon  too  much  1  The  very 
copiousness  of  our  means  of  knowledge  deducts  in 
such  cases  from  our  certainty ;  that  is  to  say,  it  dis- 
turbs the  presumption  of  ignorance,  and  baffles  the 
arrogance  of  bigotry.  Are  there  those — one  might 
almost  believe  it  from  their  temper,  who  so  love  dark- 
ness rather  than  light,  that  they  would  willingly  sur- 
render the  three  testimonies,  or  the  five,  which 
bear  upon  a  controversy,  so  that  they  might,  with  un- 
rebuked  fervour,  assume  and  assert  their  factious 
opinion  ? 

While  it  is  certain  that  the  Scriptures  will,  like  all 
other  rational  compositions,  convey  their  principal 
purport  to  every  ingenuous  mind,  it  is  not  less  certain 
that  these  books,  in  common  with  other  remains  of 
ancient  literature,  must  present  thousands  and  tens  of 
thousands  of  questionable  points,  critical,  historical,  or 
dogmatic.  On  this  ground  industry  and  erudition  find 
their  field ;  and  what  labour  can  be  more  noble  or 
more  worthy  than  that  of  endeavouring  to  fix  or  to 
elucidate  the  sense  of  writings  in  which  (beside  their 
unparalleled  merits  as  human  compositions)  are  im- 


OF  THE    SYMBOL. 


251 


bedded  the  inexhaustible  treasures  of  heavenly  wisdom ' 
How  honourable  are  our  modern  Christian   Rabbis 
employed  in  bringing  to  light,  from  day  to  day,  some 
hitherto  neglected  particle  of  the  "  true  riches ;  "  and 
how  thankfully  should  we— the  unlearned,    receive 
these  products  of  the  diligence  of  our  Teachers!  One 
might  properly  notice  here  the  beneficent  provision 
made  for  perpetually  supplying  new  matter  of  instruc- 
tion to  the  Biblical  teacher,*^  so  that  the  zest  and  expec- 
tation  of   the   taught   need   never    become   languid. 
Sacred  Science,  in  all  its  departments,  having  been 
diffused  miscellaneously  through  the  substance  of  a 
volume  so  large  as  the  Bible— and  an  ancient  volume 
too,  the  time  will  perhaps  never  come  (certainly  it  has 
not  yet  come)  in  which  it  might  be  said  that  the  sense 
of  every  portion  has  been  determined.— All  would  be 
well  if  the  simple  principle  could  be  remembered — 
That  although  the  perfection  of  knowledge  in  matters 
of  religion  is  an  object  of  the  most  worthy  ambition  to 
every  Christian  for  himself,  something  immensely  less 
than  the  perfection  of  religious  knowledge  is  all  \ve  are 
entitled  to  demand  from  others  as  the  condition  of 
holding  with  them  Christian  fellowship. 

The  vexatious  question  of  Terms  of  Communion 
presents  one  of  those  instances — and  there  are  many 
such,  in  which,  while  formidable  difficulties  attach  to 
the  Theory  of  the  affair,  none  whatever,  or  none  that 
are  serious,  are  found  (unless  created)  to  belong  to  the 
Practical  operation.  Science  often  stands  embar- 
rassed, where  Art  moves  on  at  ease.  Science  is  in- 
deed the  proper  mistress  of  Art;  nevertheless  she 
should  have  discretion  enough  to  be  willing  to  receive 
lessons  of  homely  dexterity  from  her  menial.  Men  of 
speculation  are  always  splitting  upon  the  reefs  in  these 
shallows.  Presuming  that  the  Abstract  is  always  purer, 
and  of  more  avail  than  the  Concrete,  they  reform — 
not  for  the  better,  but  the  worse ;  and,  impatient  of 
ideal  faults,  plunge  themselves  and  others  into  real  and 
fatal   perplexities.     How  often  does  the   unthinking 


252 


FANATICISM 


artisan  employ  simple  expedients  which  the  philosopher 
could  never  have  taught  him ;  and  actually  carries  his 
work  triumphantly  through  theoretic  impossibilities, 
and  how  often,  in  the  business  of  government,  does 
common  sense,  with  ancient  usage  as  its  guardian, 
prove  itself  a  vastly  better  mistress  of  affairs,  than 
abstruse  calculation.  . 

A  Consistory  of  Divines  might  spend  a  century  in 
digesting,  first  a  profession  of  faith,  and  then  a  code 
of  morals  and  a  rule  of  discipline,  such  as  should  stand 
as  a  universal  law  of  Church  communion.    In  the 
mean  time  a  Christian  society  fraught  with  the  vital 
principle  of  piety,  and  faithful  to  itself  and  to  its  trust, 
far  from  awaiting  impatiently  the  result  of  the  conte- 
rence,  might  rather  hail  demur  after  demur,  and  fer- 
vently  hope  that  the  sittings  of  this  Sanhedrim  of 
Christendom  might  be  protracted  to  the  consummation 
of  all  things.     Nothing  that  is  truly  important  need  be 
foregone  until  the  creed  and  code  should  be  brought 
to  perfection  ;-nothing  that  we  need  sigh  for  would 
be  conferred  upon  us  by  the  boon  when  at  length  it 

should  be  granted. 

The  question— How  may  the  Church  be  preserved 
from  desecration  ?-if  propounded  in  cases  where 
nothing  exists  that  is  indeed  holy— nothing  but  the 
rites  and  semblances  of  Christianity,  is  one  which  may 
well  be  reserved  for  an  idle  day.  And  no  such  ques- 
tion need  be  discussed  at  all  where  the  religion  ot  the 
New  Testament— its  faith,  and  its  morality,  actually 

subsist.  ^.    .    .  1     4U 

The  distinction  between  Christians  and  others  is 

obvious— or  obvious  enough  for  the  practical  purposes 
of  ecclesiastical  government,  if  looked  at  in  the  con- 
crete, and  under  the  daylight  of  common  sense ;  but 
it  quite  eludes  research  if  submitted  to  analysis.  1  he 
limns:  are  never  much  at  a  loss  in  recognizing  the  liv- 
ins:  *  and  no  artificial  process  will  avail  to  enable  the 
dead  to  exercise  any  such  discriminative  oflftce.  Is  it 
demanded  to  frame  a  creed  and  a  rule  by  the  due 


OP   THE    SYMBOL. 


253 


application  of  which  secular  men— frivolous  and  per 
functory,  shall  be  able  to  keep  charge  of  the  fold  of 
Christ,  and  to  open  and  shut  the  doors  of  the  Church  ? 
Absurd  problem!  Idle  endeavour!  The  Church 
wants  no  such  rule,  and  needs  no  such  guardianship  • 
and  a  better  employment  may  easily  be  found  than 
that  ot  settmg  a  watch  and  putting  a  seal  at  the  mouth 
ot  a  {Sepulchre  I 

The  duty  of  those,  whether  they  be  the  few  or  the 
many,   to   whose   hands   are   entrusted   ecclesiastical 
powers,  is  not  that  of  a  Rhadamanthus.   Responsibility 
does  not  stretch  beyond  natural  powers,  and  it  is  quite 
certain  that  men  have  no  power  to  search  each  other's 
bosoms ;   nor  should   they  think  themselves  charged 
with  any  such  endeavour.      The  pretender  and  the 
hypocrite  belong  always  to  the  Divine  Jurisdiction; 
the  Church  will  be  asked  to  give  no  account  of  them 
so  long  as  they  successfully  conceal  the  fatal  fact  of 
their  insincerity.    The  exceptive  case  of  the  hypocrite 
therefore   excluded,  not  a  shadow  of  difficulty— of 
practical  difficulty,  attends  the  discharge  of  Church 
guardianship.     Let  but  a  community,  whether  more 
or  less  extended  m  its  sphere,  be  pure  in  manners— 
I'uRE,  not  sanctimonious;  let  the  Scriptures  be  uni- 
versally  and  devoutly  read  by  its  private  members, 
and  honestly  expounded  by  its  teachers ;  and  in  this 
case  it  will  be  very  little  annoyed   by  the  intrusion 
either  of  heretical  or  licentious  candidates.    A  Church 
of  this  order  offers  nothing  which  such  persons  are 
ambitious  to  possess :— they  will  stand  aloof.     Tests 
will  be  superseded ;  and  the  rod  of  discipline  brought 
out  only  on  the  rarest  occasions. 

It  is  the  heat  of  controversy  between  sect  and  sect, 
that  ordinarily  generates  the  malevolence  which 
(according  to  our  definition)  is  essential  to  Fanaticism, 
and  which  distinguishes  it  from  Enthusiasm.  Yet 
there  are  cases  where,  without  this  extrinsic  excite- 
ment, modes  of  opinion  such  as  must  be  deemed 
extravagant,  have  assumed  a  gloomy  and  irritated 

23 


254 


FANATICISM 


OF   TUE    SYMBOL. 


255 


aspect.    Instances  of  this  sort  have  of  late  abounded; 
and  some  reference  to  them  seems  proper. 

A  singular  revolution  has  marked  the  progress  of 
religious  sentiment  among  us  within  the  last  few  years; 
and  it  is  this,  that  while  the  tendency  to  admit  enthu- 
siastic  or  fanatical  sentiments  belonged,  till  ot  late, 
almost  exclusively  to  the  lower  and  uneducated  classes, 
it  has  recently  deserted  the  quarters  of  poverty  and 
ignorance,  and  taken  hold  of  those  who  are  clothed  in 
purple,  and  frequent  palaces.  The  Fanaticism  of 
Want,  and  the  Fanaticism  of  Plenty,  though  identical 
in  substance,  naturally  differ  much  in  form.  Ihe 
characteristics  of  each  are  worthy  of  notice. 

We  know  and  think  far  too  little  of  the  feelmgg 

that  are  working  in  the  bosoms  of  the  abject  and 

wretched  poor :  if  we  knew  and  thought  more  on  this 

subject  we  should  look  with  dread  and  wonder  at  the 

placid  surface   which,  in  common,  the   social   mass 

exhibits.     The  personal   endurance  of  famine,  cold, 

and  discomfort,  from  day  to  day,  and  the  worse  an- 

<Tuish  of  seeing  these  evils  endured  by  children,  breeds 

S  feeling  which,  did  it  but  get  vent,  would  heave  the 

firmest  political  edifices  from  their  foundations :— but 

the  writhings  of  tortured  hearts  are  repressed,  diverted, 

and  only  on  rare  occasions  burst  forth  in  tumultuous 

acts.     With  many,  indeed,  all  sentiment  and  moral 

consciousness  gives  way  under  the  pressure  of  woe  ; 

or  is  dissipated  by  debauchery :— the  soul  sinks  even 

below  the  level  of  the  wretchedness  of  the  body: 

hope,  the  spring  of  life,  long  ago  took  her  flight,  and 

is  totally  forgotten  :  every  ember  of  joy  and  virtue  is 

quenched. 

But  with  some  of  the  Pariah  class  (numerous  in 
every  community)  enough  of  the  remembrance  of 
hope  survives  to  impart  sensitiveness  to  despair.  The 
poor  man,  though  he  feels  every  day  that  he  has 
given  ground  a  little  in  his  combat  with  Want,  and 
must  renew  the  strife  to-morrow  with  wasted  strength, 
and  from  a  worse  position,  and  although,  when  he 


throws  himself  on  his  pallet,  he  knows  that  the  Misery 
that  haunts  his  hut  does  not  sleep  while  he  sleeps,  but 
will  be  busy  from  the  evening  till  the  morning,  in  sap- 
ping the  broken  fabric  of  his  comfort ; — although  he 
knows  and  feels  this,  yet  the  faint  conception  of  a  hap- 
pier lot  still  haunts  him,  and  he  asks — Might  not  I  also 
be  blessed  ?  If  he  does  not  distinctly  expect  a  reverse 
of  his  doom,  he  still  meditates  the  abstract  possibility 
of  an  amended  condition. — He  is  like  the  shipwrecked 
mariner  who  takes  his  seat  day  after  day  on  the 
highest  point  of  his  rocky  prison,  and  from  sun-rise  to 
sun-set,  peruses  the  horizon,  not  certain  but  what  a 
sail  may  appear,  and  may  make  toward  the  islet  of 
his  despair.  Such  things  (let  us  believe  it)  are  felt 
and  borne  by  myriads  near  us,  even  while  we  are  gaily 
gliding  from  scene  to  scene  of  gain  or  festivity  ! 

It  is  upon  elements  like  these  that  political  agitations 
work ;  and  our  amazement  should  be,  not  that  once 
and  again  in  the  course  of  years  tumult  and  outrage 
break  forth ;  but  rather  that  the  public  peace  is  so 
seldom  violated  ;  and  that  when  disturbed,  any  bounds 
are  set  to  the  vindictive  passions  of  the  million  who 
have  so  long  suffered  in  silence. 

Experience  has  abundantly  proved,  even  to  the 
conviction  of  irreligious  statesmen,  that  the  influence 
of  religious  motives  upon  the  lowest  rank — taken  at 
large,  is  decisively  favourable  to  public  order,  and  is 
the  most  powerful  prop  of  civil  government.  None 
now  call  this  capital  political  truth  in  question,  but 
those — the  few,  whose  enormous  usurpations  are  of  a 
kind  that  can  be  secured  only  by  imposing  brutalizing 
degradations  upon  the  helot  class. — None  now  deny 
this  first  axiom  of  political  science — that  religion  is  the 
bond  of  peace ;  none  deny  it,  we  say,  but  the  Planter 
and  his  Patron. 

The  cases  are  very  rare  in  which  a  just  and  patri- 
otic government  (or  even  a  despotic  one)  might  not 
calculate  its  security  by  the  rule  of  the  amount  of 
religion  among  the  labouring  population  of  the  country. 


256 


FANATICISM 


There  have  been  momentary  exceptions ;  but  they 
are  quite  intelligible,  and  when  properly  understood 
confirm  the  rule  which  makes  it  the  interest  and  duty, 
as  well  of  the  legislative  as  of  the  administrative 
powers,  to  maintain,  and  to  extend,  and  to  invigorate, 
by  all  proper  means,  the  Public  Religion. 

The  Fanaticism  of  poverty,  which  only  under  very 
unusual  provocations  takes  a  political  turn,  or  threatens 
civil  institutions,  somewhat  more  frequently  ofiers 
itself  to  view  within  its  proper  circle  of  religious  senti- 
ment. The  Gospel  is  the  chartered  patrimony  of  the 
poor;  and  to  affirm  that  the  motives  of  religion,  as^ 
ihey  bear  upon  the  cares,  privations,  and  contempt  of 
a  low  condition,  ordinarily  pass  into  a  malign  slate, 
would  be  the  same  thing  as  to  deny  the  divine  origin 
of  this  Gospel.  The  contrary  is  most  decisively  the 
fact.  The  partial  evil  has  existence  only  when  the 
theology  that  is  promulgated  among  the  people  is  of  a 
murky  and  arrogant  kind  ; — when  one  set  of  ideas 
singly,  and  those  the  least  benign,  is  presented  to  the 
mind  of  the  people ;  and  when,  either  by  abtruse 
dogmas,  or  by  rigid  and  repulsive  usages — by  the 
monotonous  assertion  of  mysterious  exclusive  privilege, 
and  by  a  stern,  scrupulous,  and  sanctimonious  dis- 
cipline— a  discipline  more  careful  of  faith  than  of 
morals — it  is  only  by  such  means,  that  the  melancholy 
impatience  belonging  to  social  degradation  and  distress, 
gives  a  dark  colour  to  the  poor  man's  piety. 

Those  will  be  at  no  loss  in  verifying  or  in  rebutting 
our  present  allegation,  who  have  been  personally  con- 
versant with  the  religious  sentiments  of  the  lower 
classes  in  certain  departments  of  our  ecclesiastical 
commonwealth.  To  such  might  be  recommended  an 
inquiry  of  this  sort,  namely — How  far  those  forms  of 
doctrine  among  us  which  tend  to  favour  malign  spiri- 
tual arrogance,  and  which  confessedly  are  of  ambio^u- 
ous  moral  tendency,  and  how  far  certain  strait  and 
abhorrent  rules  of  communion,  and  how  far  an  exces- 
sive leaning  to  the  democratic  principle  in  the  manage- 


OP    THE    SYMBOL. 


257 


ment  of  Church  affairs — a  leaning  wholly  incompatible 

with  pastoral  independence,  how  far  these  evils if 

they  any  where  exist,  savour  of  what  may  be  termed 
plebeian  Fanaticism. 

But  the  favourites  of  Fortune,  as  well  as  her  out- 
casts, have  sometimes  their  Fanaticism:  there  is  a 
sleek  and  well-bred  religious  delirium,  as  well  as  one 
that  is  rude  and  squalid. — 

—Christianity  rarely  affects  the  opulent  and  the 
noble,  except  during  disastrous  epochs ;  or  in  those 
gloomy  hours  of  a  nation's  history,when  all  things  earth- 
ly are  in  jeopardy.  It  would  seem  as  if  nothing  less  than 
the  most  vehement  agitations  could  be  enough  to  dispel 
the  illusions  that  beset  luxury  and  honour.  Be  this  as 
it  may,  the  coincidence  of  causes  deserves  to  be  taken 
account  of  which,  in  such  seasons  of  fear  and  tumult, 
aiabrds  to  the  Christian  of  elevated  rank  a  necessary 
counterpoise  for  his  religious  emotions,  and  tends  to 
impart  soberness  to  his  piety.  This  indispensable 
counterpoise  is  furnished  to  Christians  of  lower  station 
by  the  cares  and  labours  of  vulgar  life.  But  the  perils 
and  vicissitudes  of  a  revolutionary  era  bring  home  to 
the  patrician  orders  a  sense  of  the  precariousness  of 
earthly  good  such  as,  during  the  tranquil  flow  of  events, 
they  are  hardly  ever  conscious  of.  At  these  times  a 
difficult  part  is  to  be  performed,  and  dangerous  meas- 
ures are  often  to  be  attempted,  which  fully  engage 
every  energy  of  the  soul.  It  is  then  that  public  per- 
sons are  thrown  upon  their  principles,  are  compelled 
to  look  to  the  ultimate  reasons  of  their  conduct :  and 
are  in  fact  taught  certain  severe  lessons  of  virtue,  such 
as  are  never  dreamed  of  in  the  summer  seasons  of  the 
world's  affairs.  It  is  at  such  times  that  religious  sen- 
timents, if  they  exist  at  all  in  the  bosoms  of  the  great, 
are  brought  into  act,  and  are,  by  that  means,  preserved 
from  exaggeration. 

This  general  order  of  things  being  kept  in  view,  we 
may  the  more  readily  understand  the  somewhat  singu- 
lar appearance  which  serious  piety  has  assumed  of 

23* 


258 


FANATICISM 


OP    THE    SYMBOL. 


259 


late  in  a  portion  of  the  upper  classes  of  England. 
The  time  we  have  lived  through   has  indeed  been  a 
season  of  momentous  change,  and  has  furnished  excite- 
ments of  the  most  unusual  kind.     And  yet,  to  the  peo- 
ple of  the  British  Islands,  the  throes  of  the  world  and 
the  sanguinary  convulsions  of  the  nations,  have  offered 
a  Spectacle,  rather  than  an  arena  of  action  and  trial. 
During  a  full  forty  years,   the  EngHsh  have   stood 
crowding  their  cliffs  in  mute  astonishment,  and  have 
gazed  upon  the  distant  prospect  of  blazing  palaces,  or 
demolished  thrones— of  embattled  fields,  or  of  cities 
deluged  by  civil  feud  ; — they  have  caught  the  mutter- 
ing thunders  of  war  and  revolution ;    but  still  have 
been  able  to  turn  the  eye  homeward,  and  have  seen 
the  smiling  serenity  of  order  and  plenty  spread  over  all 
their  land.     We  have  indeed  entertained  momentary 
alarms,  and  have  groaned  under  burdens ;  but  have 
hardly  been  called  to  meet  the  brunt  of  danger  : — the 
stress  of  affairs  has  not  lain  upon  us,  so  as  to  engage 
the  higher  virtues. 

The  excitements  of  an  era  of  commotion  have  been 
felt; — yet  apart  from   its  proper  correctives.    The 
spread  of  religious  feeling  among  the  rich  and  noble 
may  fairly  be  attributed  (in  measure)  to  the  salutary 
impression  which  the  magnitude  and  portentous  aspect 
of  events  has  made  upon  all  minds.     Yet  it  has  been 
an  impression  without  a  conjiict — an  awe,  but  not  an 
exercise.  There  has  been  no  arduous  part  to  perform, 
no  sacrifice  to  make,  no  privation  to  be  endured.     All 
this  while  the  religious  noble  have  reclined  upon  a 
couch  as  soft  as  that  of  the  irreligious  noble; — the 
silken  banner  of  their  ease  has  floated  in  a  summer's 
sky: — they  have   fared   as  daintily,  and   have  been 
served  as  sumptuously,  as  if  their  portion  were  all  in 
this  world: — they  have   undulated  from   theatre   to 
theatre  of  pious  entertainment,  and  have  met  accla- 
mations and  smiles ; — yet  nothing  has  compelled  them 
to  act  or  to  suffer  like  men. 
There  can  be  little  room  then  for  surprise  if  the 


result  of  this  peculiar  conjunction  of  influences  has 
been  to  give  play  to  exorbitances  of  opinion,  and 
absurdities  of  conduct,  among  those  of  the  rich  and 
noble  who  have  admitted  religious  impressisns.  Some, 
we  cannot  doubt,  the  ferment  of  whose  piety  has  ' 
brought  our  Christianity  into  contempt,  would  have 
honoured  their  profession  of  it  by  exhibiting  the 
courage  and  devotion  of  confessors,  had  public  events 
been  of  a  kind  to  lead  them  into  any  such  arduous 
sphere  of  action  :  these  persons  have  been  fain  to 
yearn  for  miracles  in  easy  times,  that  offer  no  crowns 
of  martyrdom. 

Religious  sentiments  in  a  highly  excited  state,  and 
not  counterpoised  by  the  vulgar  cares  and  sorrows  of 
humble  life — not  taught  common  sense  by  common 
occasions,  is  little  likely  to  stop  short  at  mere  enthu- 
siam  :— the  fervour  almost  of  necessity  becomes  fanat- 
ical. The  progress  of  the  feelings  in  such  cases  is  not 
difficult  to  be  divined. — That  sensitiveness  to  public 
opinion,  and  that  nice  regard  to  personal  reputation, 
and  that  keen  consciousness  of  ridicule,  which  belong 
to  the  upper  classes,  and  upon  which  their  morality 
is  chiefly  founded,  tend,  in  the  instance  of  the  pious 
oligarch,  to  generate  vivid  resentments  when  he  feels 
that,  having  over-stepped  the  boundaries  of  good  sense 
and  sobriety,  he  has  clrawn  upon  himself  the  public 
laugh.  The  intolerable  glance  of  scorn  from  his  peers, 
to  which  he  has  found  himself  exposed,  must  be — not 
retorted  indeed — not  avenged ;  but  yet  returned  in 
some  manner  compatible  with  religious  ideas.  It  is 
at  this  very  point  of  commuted  revenge  that  fanati- 
cism takes  its  rise.  Interpretations  the  most  excessive, 
expectations  the  most  dire,  comminations  the  most 
terrible,  and  a  line  of  conduct  arrogantly  absurd,  set 
wounded  patrician  pride  again  upon  its  due  elevation 
—repair  the  damage  it  has  sustained  ;  and  surround  it 
with  a  hedge  of  thorns. 

If  (national  prejudice  apart)  it  may  be  said  that  the 
English  character  possesses  a  peculiar  nobleness  ;  and 


260 


FANATICISM 


if  it  be  true  that  the  English  aristocracy  stands  fore- 
most as  by  emphasis  the  aristocracy  of  Europe  ;  and 
if  moreover  it  may  be  beheved  that  Christianity  has  a 
stronger  hold  of  the  English  than  of  any  other  people, 
may  not  a  time  reasonably  be  looked  for,  when  the 
special  excellences  of  the  national  character,  illustrated 
by  rank  and  high  culture,  shall  admit  (without  taint  of 
fanaticism)  the  elevating  influence  of  unfeigned  piety, 
and  so  shall  exhibit  to  the  world,  under  the  very  fairest 
and   the    brightest   forms,    the  true   magnanimity   of 

virtue ! 

To  what  extent  the  advance  of  Christianity  among 
the  nations  has  been  obstructed  by  the  absurd  or  the 
hostile  form  into  which  it  has  been  thrown  by  its  pro- 
fessors, none  can  presume  to  determine.  None 
know  how  many  perplexed  and  hesitating  minds,  dis- 
tracted with  doubts,  have  received  their  final  and  fatal 
shock  from  the  spectacle  of  folly,  pride,  and  strife 
which  the  Church  has  exhibited. — None  can  calculate 
what  might  have  been  achieved  by  the  zeal  and  energy 
that  have  been  consumed  in  dissensions,  or  quashed  by 
despotism.  Much  less  can  any  mortal  dare  to  surmise 
how  far  the  outraged  clemency  of  heaven  has,  by  these 
same  means,  been  averted  altogether  from  the  theatre 
of  human  affairs,  so  that  blessings  have  been  withheld 
— the  efficacious  influence  denied,  and  the  world 
abandoned  through  long  ages,  to  its  melancholy  course 
of  superstition  and  of  crime ! 

The  dependency  of  cause  upon  cause  in  the  vast 
and  occult  machinery  of  the  moral  system,  lies  far  be- 
yond the  reach  of  human  curiosity.  That  day  must 
be  waited  for  which  is  to  reveal  the  springs  of  the 
movements  that  now  meet  the  eye,  and  perplex  our 
meditations.  But  might  not  a  time  come  when  those 
who  readily  confess  themselves  to  sustain  as  Christians, 
a  responsibility  toward  the  world  at  large,  and  who 
are  even  forward  in  claiming  their  several  shares  of 
this  responsibility — when  such,  pausing  a  moment  on 
their  course  of  zealous  enterprise,  shall,  with  an  ingeiv 


OP    THE    SYMBOL. 


261 


uous  dread  of  meeting  at  last  the  Divine  reproof  in- 
stead of  approval,  set  themselves  to  inquire  whether 
the  Christianity  they  are  sending  from  land  to  land 
IS  not  loaded  with  some  fatal  disparagement,  such  as 
forbids  its  wide  extension  ? 

But  it  is  asked — Who  is  competent,  or  who  com- 
mands the  means  of  regenerating  our  ecclesiastical 
existence  ?     Where  rests  a  blame,  of  which  no  man 
has  the  power  to  rid  himself?     The  answer  to  such  an 
mquiry  is  not  difficult ;  for  the  individual  culpability 
which  rests  upon  Christians,  living  under  a  corrupted 
or  perverted  state  of  things,  is  that  of  resisting  the 
appeals  of  common  sense.-— The  personal  guilt  is  that 
of   harbouring  fond  predilections,    and   of  jealousy 
quashing  any  course  of  inquiry  that  is   foreseen   as 
likely  to  bring  sectarian  interests  into  jeopardy.     The 
personal  blame  is  of  the  very  same  kind  that  attaches 
to  the  maintenance  of  other  species  of  vicious  infatua- 
tion.    If  the   actual   amount  of   this   criminality   be 
small  in  the  instance  of  the  untaught  and  the  unthink- 
ing multitude,  it  reaches  a  height  we  will  not  estimate, 
with  the  few  whose  duty  it  is  to  care  for,  and  lead  the 
many.     Thus  it  has  been  in  every  age. — Evils  griev- 
ous in  themselves,  and  frightful  in  their  ultimate  con- 
sequences, have  been  palliated  by  those  who  should 
have  checked  them ; — have  been  admired,  or  have 
been  cloaked ;  have  been  trumpeted,  or  have  been 
excused  ;  but  never  honestly  and  unsparingly  dealt 
with. 

No  principle  of  morals  can  bo  more  unsound  than 
that  which  would  excuse  a  man  from  guilt  who  cares 
not  to  rid  himself  of  prejudices  or  of  scruples  that  are 
ruinous  to  his  fellows.  If  we  do  not  owe  the  cultiva- 
tion of  common  sense  to  ourselves,  we  assuredly  owe 
it  to  those  around  us.  No  man  can  play  the  fool  with- 
out peril  to  his  neighbours ;  and  when  the  Christian 
does  so,  he  flings  perdition  on  every  side  of  him. 

Those  questions  of  ecclesiastical  polity  (if  such 
there  be)  which  involve  real  difficulties,  and  which 


262 


FANATICISM 


OP   THE    SYMBOL. 


963 


£tiL 


wise  men  might  hesitate  to  touch — uncertain  and  com- 
pHcated  as  are  all  human  affairs,  may  well  be  reserved 
until  other  points  have  been  disposed  of  that  demand 
nothing  but  the  putting  in  force  of  the  plainest  prin- 
ciples of  reason  and  piety.  Who  shall  say  how  much 
light  would  suddenly  come  in  upon  the  obscurer 
matters,  if  once  the  simpler  were  taken  out  of  the 
way  ? 

To  adduce  the  specific  instances,  and  to  deal  with 
them  equitably,  would  consist  neither  with  the  limits 
nor  the  purpose  of  this  volume.  It  is  principles  only 
we  have  to  do  with  ;  and  in  the  establishment  of  gene- 
ral truths,  must  still  adhere  to  the  rule  of  drawing  ex- 
amples from  the  remotest  quarters.  In  closing  then 
this  Section,  let  a  single  instance,  illustrative  of  the 
purport  of  it,  be  glanced  at. 

The  ancient  Church  might  stand  excused  from  the 
blame  of  defending,  with  too  much  acrimony,  the  great 
elements  of  Christian  faith,  assailed  as  they  were  by  a 
hundred  heresies,  audacious  and  absurd  ;  and  let  in- 
dulgence be  afforded  in  relation  to  those  divisions  in 
matters  of  discipline  which  might  fairly  perplex  honest 
minds.  We  look  now  to  instances  of  that  sort  which 
entailed  extreme  contempt  upon  Christianity,  and 
sullied  all  its  glory,  for  the  sake  of  pertinacious  scruples 
ineflably  trivial.  If  the  case  adduced  be  thought  alto- 
gether without  parallel  in  modern  times,  let  it  be 
rejected  as  impertinent. 

Be  it  imagined  that  the  accomplished 4Ultliat. of  the 
treatise  "  on  the  Sublime,"  hitherto  imperfectly  inform- 
ed of  the  Christian  doctrine,  and  doubtful  of  its  claims, 
had  at  length  resolved  to  obtain  a  more  intimate  ac- 
quaintance with  a  religion  which  was  then  spreading 
through  all  parts  of  the  world,  and  spreading  in  defiance 
of  imperial  edicts  and  popular  fury.  The  philosophic 
Longinus  has  learned  in  a  vague  manner  that  the 
Christians  profess  the  hope  of  a  glorious  immortality — 
that  they  hold  elevated  opinions  concerning  the  Divine 
nature,  and  that  they  treat  with  derision  the  idle  my- 


thologies and  immoral  superstitions  of  all  nations  ;* 
and  he  is  told  that  this  system  is  affirmed  to  have  been 
imparted  immediately  from  God.  He  expects  then 
that  whether  the  alleged  revelation  be  true  or  false,  it 
will  offer  nothing  but  what  is  momentous  and  simply 
great : — he  is  justified  in  expecting  nothing  else.  While 
he  yet  revolves  his  purpose  of  inquiry,  there  falls  by 
chance  into  his  hands  an  epistle  addressed  by  a  dis- 
tinguished contemporary  —  a  Christian  bishop,  to  a 
colleague.  The  writer,  known  to  him  already  by 
common  fame,  stands  entitled  on  every  ground  to 
respect.  Head  of  the  Alexandrian  Church,  and  there- 
fore second  to  few  or  none  in  official  importance,  a 
man  of  extensive  learning  too — no  barbarian;  but 
versed,  like  himself,  in  the  poets,  orators,  and  philos- 
ophers of  Greece: — a  man  of  tried  integrity,  who 
had  endured  severe  suflferings  and  banishment  in  de- 
fence of  his  faith ;  a  man  moreover  of  settled  mode- 
ration, and  calm  judgment,  one  who  was  appealed  to 

*  Jiivenal  and  Liician  had  led  Ihe  way  in  the  work  which  th« 
Christian  writers  achieved,  of  consigning  ihe  Grecian  mythology  to 
contempt.     Popular  veneration  toward  the  gods  had  almost  entirely 
been  loosened  by  railleries  which  drew  their  irresistible  force  from 
common  sense.  When  the  Christians  brought  the  heavy  arms  of  pure 
truth  to  bear  upon  these  decayed  absurdities,  the  victory  could  not  be 
long  doubtful.     The  Church  at  this  time  commanded  the  services  of 
many  writers  qualified  by  vigorous  talents,  wit,  and  extensive  learning, 
for  the  part  assigned  them.     Some  of  the  jaieces  then  produced  with 
the  design  of  exposing  polytheism  to  merited  contempt,  are  of  th© 
highest  merit.— Such  for  example  as— The  admirable  and  erudite 
work  of  Athenagoras,  Legatio  pro  ChristianiSy  addressed  to  the  An- 
tonines  :— The  Oratio  ad  Gr(ccos  of  Tatian  .-—The  caustic  Jrrisio 
PhUos.  Gentil.  of  Hermias,  which,  though  aimed  at  the  philosophic 
sects,  went  also  to   undermine  the  popular  superstitions. — Justin 
Martyr  claims  a  distinguished  place  in  the  list,  especially  on  account 
of  his  excellent  Parcenetic  to  the  Greeks.     The  Mmonitio  ad  Grcecot 
of  the  learned  Clemens  Alexandrinus  is  of  great  value,  and  contains 
a  fund  of  various  erudition,     Origen,  Contra  Celsum,  takes  his  part 
in  the  same  labour.  Tertullian  mightily  assails  the  folly  and  impurity 
of  the  popular  worship ;  and  not  least  is  the  Octaviits  of  Minuciua 
Felix.     These,  and  other  erudite  and  eloquent  labours  of  the  early 
church,  which  no  doubt  highly  conduced  to  the  ultimate  triumph  of 
the  Gospel  throughout  the  empire,  merit  more  than  admiration — 

PERUSAL. 


264 


FANATICISM 


by  all  parties  as  umpire. — Such  was  Dionysius  of 
Alexandria ; — and  as  such,  not  improbably,  might  he 
have  been  known  to  his  contemporary,  Longinus.* 

If  then  indeed  Christianity  be  a  sublime  doctrine,  if 
it  be  a  revelation  of  future  life ;  if  it  be  a  philosophy 
imparted  by  God  himself  to  man,  it  must  dignify  its 
adherents,  it  must  imbue  them  with  a  grave  and  manly 
reason,  it  must  exempt  them  from  the  servile  and 
childish  superstitions  that  enslave  the  vulgar.  Fraught 
with  these  proper  anticipations,  the  philosophic  inqui- 
rer opens  the  letter  of  the  Alexandrian  prelate.f  Al- 
though not  qualified  justly  to  estimate  those  expressions 
of  meekness  and  simplicity  w^hich  present  themselves 
on  the  face  of  it — a  style  so  unlike  that  of  the  schools, 
his  candour  is  conciliated  by  the  modesty  of  a  man 
whose  station  might  have  rendered  him  arrogant.J 

"  Dionysius  to  Basilides,  my  beloved  son,  and  bro- 
ther, and  colleague  in  the  Lord — greeting. — You  wrote 
to  me,  my  faithful  and  learned  son,  concerning  the 
hour  at  which  fasting  should  cease  in  celebrating  the 
Paschal  solemnity.  You  report  that  certain  of  the 
fraternity  (of  Pentapolis)  affirm  that  the  fast  should 
end,  and  our  rejoicings  commence,  at  the  moment  of 
cock-crowing ;  while  others  say  it  should  be  from  the 
evening.      The    brethren   of  Rome,  as   the  former 

*  As  Principal  of  the  Catechetical  School  of  Alexandria,  Dionysius 
had  early  diffused  his  reputation  very  widely.  He  was  esteemed  one 
of  the  most  distinguished  of  Origen's  pupils.  Eusebius,  Eccles.  Ilisl. 
1.  vi,  c.  35—40. 

j  The  canonic  epistle  of  Dionysius,  quoted  above,  is  of  unques- 
tioned authenticity.  It  is  accessible  to  the  reader  in  Routh's  Reliquia 
Sacra,  Vol.  II. 

I  Dionysius,  after  giving  advices  on  sundry  points  of  discipHne, 
then  deemed  important,  thus  concludes — "  In  these  things  (concern- 
ing which,  to  do  us  honour,  not  because  you  are  yourself  unable  to 
judge,  you  have  propounded  questions)  I  advance  my  opinion,  not  as 
Master  6<^(08(^xaAo5>  but  with  all  simplicity,  and  as  it  is  becoming  that 
we  should,  on  terras  of  mutuaUty,  discuss  any  subject  of  debate. 
Concerning  this  my  opinion  you,  learned  son,  when  you  havo 
considered  it,  will  write  to  me  again,  either  approving  my  decision, 
or  proposing  a  better."  How  well,  had  this  style  been  copied  by 
Church  dignitaries ! 


OF   THE    SYMBOL. 


265 


assert,  are  accustomed  to  await  the  crowin»  of  the  cock* 
whereas,  on  our  part,  as  you  say,  an  earlier  hour  is 
observed.     Your  desire  is  to  ascertain  with  precision 
the  very  moment,  and  to  fix  decisively  the  proper  hour  ; 
but  to  do  so  is  a  difficult  and  uncertain  thing.     All  are 
indeed  perfectly  agreed  on  this  one  point—That,  from 
the  instant  of  our  Lord's  resurrection,  festivity  and  glad- 
ness should  commence ;  and  that,  on  the  other  hand, 
fasting  and  humiliation  of  spirit  are  proper  in  the  pre- 
ceding time.     But  yourself,  in  your  epistle— versed  as 
you  are  in  the  divine  evangelic  records,  have  shewn 
that  nothing  is  to  be  certainly  gathered  from  the  Gos- 
pels concerning  the  hour  of  the  resurrection.     The 
Evangelists,  in  their  several  modes  of  narratin«-  the 
event,  declare  that  all  who,  at  different  times,  vTsited 
the  sepulchre,  found  the  Lord  already  risen.     Yet  we 
assume  that  they  neither  disagree,  nor  oppose  each 
other  as  to  the  fact ;  and  inasmuch  as  the  point  has 
become  the  subject  of  controversy,  as  if  there  were  a 
want  of  consistency  among  the  Evangelists,  let  us  with 
due  humility  and  caution  endeavour  to  trace  out  their 
real  agreement." 

Then  follows  a  careful  examination  of  the  evidence 
in  concluding  which  the  good  bishop  manifestly  en- 
deavours so  to  pronounce  upon  the  perplexing  matter 
as  should  corroborate  strict  and  godly  discipline,  with- 
out absolutely  precluding  indulgence  toward  the  feeble 
or  even  the  lax.  "  Those,"  says  he,  "  who,  being  pres- 
ently wearied,  hasten  to  break  their  fast,  even  before 
midnight,  we  must  blame  as  negligent  and  incontinent. 
It  is  not  a  little,  according  to  the  adage,  to  fall  short 
in  the  course,  hij  a  little.     But  on  the  contrary,  those 
who  hold  out  until  the  fourth  watch  of  the  night,  we 
deem  to  be  noble  and  strenuous.     Yet  will  we  not 
angrily  assail'^  any  who,  either  from  want  of  strength, 
or  of  fixed  resolution,  seek  refreshment  sooner.      * 
These  unquestionably  are  the  tones  of  moderatioii 

24 


266 


FANATICISM 


OF   THE    SYMBOL. 


267 


and  of  wisdom  ;  the  style  well  becomes  the  Christian 
pastor  and  the  bishop.  But  what  was  the  controversy 
itself?  And  what  impression  must  the  anxious  agita- 
tion of  questions  such  as  these  have  made  upon  men 
of  enlarged  understanding,  who  looked  at  the  new 
religion  from  a  distance,  and  with  cold  curiosity  ?  To 
return  for  a  moment  to  our  supposition; — must  we 
not  regard  Longinus  as  almost  excused,  if  he  had  cast 
away  the  epistle  of  Dionysius  with  indignant  scorn, 
and  have  said — "  Is  this  your  vaunted  Christianity  ? 
Is  it  to  maintain  this  system  of  servile  frivolity  that 
you  die  at  the  stake  ?  Do  you  ask  me  to  become  a 
Christian  ?  as  well  turn  Jew : — and  how  much  better 
remain  philosopher !" 

The  fault  in  the  instance  we  have  adduced  was  not 
that  of  a  want  of  temper ;  for  we  must  admire  the 
mild  and  conciliatory  tone  of  the  writer,  vested  as  he 
was  with  authority :  nor  was  it  a  fault  to  endeavour  to 
ascertain  (if  the  means  of  doing  so  had  been  at  hand) 
a  circumstance  of  an  event  beyond  all  others  worthy 
of  earnest  regard.  But  the  error — and  a  fatal  error 
in  its  consequences,  was  that  of  admitting  religious 
impoi^tance  to  attach  to  a  particular  which  confessedly 
lay  beyond  the  range  of  revelation,  and  had  been  made 
no  part  of  Christian  duty.  Not  only  was  the  point  ab- 
stractedly trivial,  but  it  was  the  subject  of  no  injunc- 
tion. How  could  it  be  imagined,  unless  through  a 
circuit  of  false  assumptions,  that  conscience  was  im- 
plicated in  an  observance  concerning  which,  not  only 
was  there  no  explicit  command,  but  no  certain  evi- 
dence  bearing  upon  the  fact  whereon  the  observance 
rested?  Granting  the  paschal  solemnities  to  have 
been  acceptable  religious  seiTices,  and  granting  it  to 
have  been  a  pious  act  to  fast  in  commemoration  of  the 
Lord's  death  and  burial,  and  to  celebrate  his  return  to 
life  with  hymns,  illuminations,  and  other  festivities,  yet, 
as  by  the  acknowledgment  of  all,  except  zealots,  the 
precise  moment  in  which  sorrow  was  turned  into  glad- 
ness could  not  be  ascertained,  and  must  remain  mere 


matter  of  surmise,  was  it  not  an  egregious  violation  of 
common  sense  to  make  such  a  point  the  subject  of 
anxious  controversy,  and  the  occasion  of  ecclesiastical 
disunion  ? 

Dionysius,  it  is  true,  writes  and  decides  much  more 
like  a  Christian  than  like  a  supercilious  dignitary,  and 
if  all  had  been  such  as  himself,  the  foolish  disagree- 
ment must  soon  have  been  forgotten.     But  what  w^as 
likely  to  happen  in  the  distracted  parish  of  Basilides  ? 
A  few  perhaps,  the  lovers  of  peace,  would  hail  with 
joy  the  patriarchal  decision.     Not  so  the  fervent  and 
the  dogmatic  ;  not  so  those  whose  piety  meant  nothing 
apart  from  virulence.     Such— and  are  there  not  such 
in  every  community? — would  listen  to  the  canonic 
letter,  when  publicly  read  in  the  Church,  with  clouded 
visages;    they   would    exchange    among  themselves 
glances  of  insolent  dissent ;  they  would  cluster  about 
the  church  doors  after  the  assembly  had  broke  up, 
would  gather  to  themselves   open-mouthed   hearers, 
would  inveigh  against  the  easiness  and  worldly  indif- 
ference of  men  in  high  station ;  they  would  impeach 
the  motives  and  the  piety,  first  of  the  Alexandrian 
patriarch,  and  then  of  his  surrogate — their  own  pastor. 
The  intrinsic  merits  of  the  question  would  be  hotly 
agitated,  and  its  vital  importance  be  insisted  upon: 
the  consciences  of  the  feeble  and  the  scrupulous,  of 
women  and  slaves,  would  be  entangled  and  placed  at 
the  disposal  of  the  despotic  leaders  of  the  sect.    These 
leaders,  committed  to  a  course  of  open  opposition, 
would  find  it  necessary  to  have  recourse  to  every 
means  of  exaggeration  and  irritation  tending  to  sustain 
the  zeal  of  their  adherents.    A  breach  whh  the  Church 
would  be  deemed  indispensable  for  securing  the  rights 
of  conscience :  fellowship  must  be  refused,  first  with 
the  general   body  of  believers ;  next  with  those  who, 
though  holding  mainly  with  themselves  in  the  question 
at  issue,  yet  hesitated  to  adjudge  Christendom  entire 
to  perdition  on  account  of  its  error  in  this  single  point. 
Lastly  (if  indeed  the  absurdity  of  intolerance  ever 


^'1' 


268 


FANATICISM    OF    THE    SYMBOL. 


r 


reaches  an  ultimate  stage)  lastly,  all  correspondence 
must  be  cut  off  with  whoever  w^ould  not  denounce  the 
moderate  middle  men  above  named.  In  the  end,  the 
little  flaming  nucleus  of  immaculate  rigidity,  fasting 
till  broad  day  of  Easter  Sunday,  and  blessing  itself  in 
the  straitness  of  its  circle,  would  be  able  to  look  down 
upon  all  the  world,  and  upon  all  the  church,  as  wrong 
and  lost  I  Meanwhile  the  amiable  Dionysius  grieves, 
and  prays  too  for  the  contumacious  band.  But  should 
he  not  remember  that  the  faction  drew  its  consequence 
from  his  own  error  in  granting,  for  a  moment,  that 
Christian  duty  and  conscience  could  be  at  all  con- 
cerned  in  a  controversy  of  this  frivolous  sort  ?  Should 
he  not  have  known  that  if  men  are  encouraged  by 
persons  of  sense  and  authority  to  attach  importance 
to  idle  scrupulosities,  they  will  not  fail  to  forget  solid 
morality,  as  well  as  to  spurn  meekness  and  love  ? 

The  follies  of  one  age  ditfer  from  those  of  another 
in  names  only.  Let  those  boast  of  the  intelligence  of 
the  nineteenth  century,  who  think  it  furnishes  no  par- 
allels to  the  infatuations  of  the  third.  It  is  often 
anxiously  asked — What  hinders  the  progress  of  the 
Gospel  in  a  country  like  our  own,  and  in  an  age  of 
liberty  and  knowledge  ?  It  might  be  quite  enough  to 
reply,  that  the  hinderance  is  drawn  from  the  form  of 
impertinent-  and  childish  discord  which  has  been 
thrown  over  it  by  some  of  its  most  devoted  adherents. 
If  then  our  Christianity  does  not  triumph  as  it  ought, 
we  will  not  vex  at  the  infidelity  of  Longinus;  but 
mourn  the  superstition  of  Dionysius. 


SECTION  IX. 


THE    RELIGION    OP    THE    BIBLE    NOT    FANATICAL. 
(the    OLD   TESTAMENT.) 

The  mind  seeks  refreshment  in  contemplating  Truth, 
after  conversing  long  with  the  follies  and  crimes  that 
mark  as  well  the   religious  as   the  civil   history  of 
nations.     A  tranquil  delight,  a  delight  enhanced  by 
contrast,  is  felt  when  we  return  to  set  foot  upon  that 
solid  ground  of  reason  and  purity  which  the  Scriptures 
open  before  us.    How  melancholy  soever,  or  revoltintr 
may  be  the  spectacle  of  human  affairs,  a  happier  pros^ 
pect  is  within  view.-— In  the  religion  of  the  Bible 
there  is  certainty — there  is  unsullied  goodness — there 
is  divinity.     Let  the  inferences  be  what  they  may — 
and  we  should  take  care  they  are  sound,  which  we 
feel  compelled  to  draw  from  the  general  course  of 
events,  it  remains  always  true  that  the  writings  of  the 
prophets  and  apostles  present  a  system  of  belief,  an 
order  of  sentiments,  and  a  rule  of 'morals  such  as  are 
altogether  consistent  with  the  highest  conceptions  we 
can  form  of  the  Divine  attributes.    The  Bible  is  God's 
revelation :  none  doubt  it  who  retain  the  integrity  of 
the  moral  faculty,  who  command  the  powers  of  reason, 
and  who  are  informed  of  what  has  been  in  every  age 
the  actual  condition  of  human  nature.    The  Scriptures 
are  from  Heaven.     Yet  we  will  not  now  assume  this 
truth,  but  narrowly  examine*  (on  a  single  and  peculiar 
line  of  argument)  the  proof  of  it. 

24* 


270 


RELIGION    OF   THE   BIBLE 


NOT    FANATICAL. 


271 


m    I; 

r 

i 
'i 


Let  it  then  be  premised  that  it  is  not  by  avoiding 
occasions  of  danger,  but  by  efficiently  providing 
against  them,  that  the  Scriptures  lead  man  through  the 
difficult  paths  of  the  spiritual  world.  The  most  critical 
positions  which  the  human  mind  can  occupy  are  freely 
entered  upon  by  the  writers  of  the  Bible  ; — all  hazards 
are  run,  and  a  clear  triumphant  course  is  pursued 
through  all.  If  an  affirmation  such  as  this  be  deemed 
loose  or  declamatory,  and  more  easily  advanced  than 
substantiated,  let  strict  attention  be  given  to  the  his- 
toric facts  and  documents  whence  a  conclusion  should 
be  drawn  ;  in  entering  upon  this  ground  no  favour  is 
implored,  no  rigour  of  scrutiny  is  deprecated.  We 
ask  for  what  we  may  demand — a  verdict  according  to 
the  evidence. 

On  all  questions  relating  to  the  alleged  practical  in- 
fluence of  opinions,  the  rational  inquiry  plainly  is — 
Not  what  seems  the  tendency  of  single  elements  of  the 
system  ; — but  in  what  manner  are  its  various  elements 
balanced  and  harmonized  ?  Who  does  not  know  that 
Effects  are,  in  every  case,  whether  physical  or  intel- 
lectual, as  the  combined  causes  which  concur  to  pro- 
duce them  ?  If  at  any  time  certain  ingredients  of 
rehgious  truth  have  been  drawn  apart,  and  grossly 
abused,  to  the  injury  of  the  parties  themselves,  and  to 
the  scandal  of  others,  the  fault  is  not  in  the  inspired 
Book.  The  sacred  WTiters  require  nothing  short  of  a 
submission  to  that  complete  and  duly-adjusted  system 
of  motives  which  they  promulgate  ;  and  it  would  have 
been  a  virtual  dereliction  of  their  authority  to  have 
made  provision  against  the  misuse  of  those  single 
principles  which  can  produce  no  mischief  so  long  as 
they  are  held  in  combination. 

Boldness — the  boldness  of  simplicity  is  the  style  of 
the  Bible  from  first  to  last.  Nowhere  does  it  exhibit 
that  sort  of  circumspection  which  distinguishes  the 
purblind  and  uncertain  discretion  of  man.  Man,  if 
cautious  at  all,  is  overcautious,  and  must  be  so,  be- 
cause he  knows  little  of  the  remote  relations  of  things, 


and  almost  nothing  of  their  future  consequences. 
Although  one  event  only  shall  actually  occur,  in  a 
given  case,  five  or  ten  that  are  possible  must  be  pro- 
vided for.  But  the  Divine  Omniscience  saves  itself  all 
such  w^asted  anxieties,  and  takes  a  direct  cburse  to  its 
proposed  end  ;  an  end  it  had  foreseen  from  the  begin- 
ning. A  difference  of  the  very  same  sort  distin- 
guishes  human  and  divine  operations  whenever 
brought  into  comparison. — The  former  abound  with 
provisions  and  precautions  against  possible  accidents  ; 
but  in  the  latter,  provision  is  made  only  against  actuai 
and  foreseen  evils;  and  therefore  w^hen  examined  on 
principles  of  human  science,  often  seem — shall  we  say 
— unsafe  and  incomplete. 

To  take  the  separate  ingredients  of  religion  as  they 
may  be  gathered  from  the  Jewish  and  Christian  Scrip- 
tures, one  might  find  in  them,  apart,  every  incitement 
of  those  perverted  sentiments,  which,  in  fact,  through 
the  course  of  ages,  have  borrowed  a  pretext  from  the 
Bible.  No  conceivable  method  of  conveying  complex 
principles  could  afford  security  against  such  a  misuse 
of  the  heavenly  boon.  If  men  will  sever  that  which 
God  has  joined,  nothing  remains  but  that  they  should 
receive  into  their  bosoms  the  fruit  of  their  temerity. 
The  inspired  writers,  as  may  be  proved  in  the  most 
convincing  manner,  were  themselves  no  fanatics ;  nor 
will  their  readers  ever  become  such,  while  they  admit 
that  complement  of  motives  w^hich  the  theology  of  the 
Scriptures  includes. 

We  have  said  that  the  Bible  does  not  avoid  difficult 
positions,  nor  evade  critical  and  delicate  affirmations, 
as  for  example. — 

Neither  the  Prophets  nor  the  Apostles,  in  the  repre- 
sentations they  make  of  the  Divine  Nature  affect  that 
vague  and  theoretic  style  which  pleases  philosophy. 
On  the  contrary,  they  advance  without  solicitude  into 
the  very  midst  of  the  most  appalling  conceptions  of 
the  Supreme  Majesty.  And  instead  of  affirming  what 
they  have  to  affirm  with  an  accompaniment  of  extenu- 


«i 


272 


RELIGION   OF  THE   BIBLE 


NOT    FANATICAL. 


273 


k 


i! 


.& 


I 

(11 


ations,  apologies,  and  cautions,  they  employ  language, 
pungent  and  vigorous  in  the  highest  degree,  and  leave 
the  whole  force  of  their  emphatic  phrases  to  press, 
without  relief,  upon  the  imagination  and  consciences 
of  men.  Those  very  passages  of  terror  which  the 
Fanatic  delights  to  rehearse,  he  may  find,  if  he  will 
subtract  them  from  their  places.  Yes,  and  when  he 
enters  into  controversy  with  men  of  an  opposite  tem- 
perament, who  will  admit  nothing  into  their  theology 
but  what  is  lenient,  he  easily  triumphs  over  them  by 
adducing  decisive  examples  of  a  sort  which  can  never 
be  reconciled  with  such  effeminate  opinions.  The 
Divine  Being,  as  made  known  to  mankind  by  Moses, 
Samuel,  David,  Elijah,  Isaiah,  Ezekiel ;  or  by  Christ 
himself,  and  Paul  and  James,  is  not  the  quiescent  and 
complacent  Power  which  Theists  fondly  paint. — 
Rather  is  He  terrible  in  his  anger,  jealous  of  his  honour, 
and  not  to  be  approached  without  fear. 

We  find  moreover,  very  prominently  in  the  Holy 
Scriptures,  that  doctrine  of  the  universal  degeneracy 
of  mankind,  and  of  the  consequent  displacency  of 
God,  which  waits  only  for  misinterpretation  and  exag- 
eration,  to  become  w  hat  the  fanatic  demands,  as  the 
second  capital  excitement  of  his  malign  and  vindictive 
temper.*  The  human  race,  he  will  say,  is  fallen — is 
foul — is  guilty :  may  it  not  then,  ought  it  not  to  be 
religioudy  hated?  Is  not  man  spiritually  abominable? 
Can  any  expressions  of  detestation — can  any  severities 
of  treatment  be  deemed  excessive  or  improper  on  the 
part  of  the  few  who,  loyally  taking  side  with  God 
against  the  rebel  race,  would  speak  and  act  in  a 
manner  becoming  the  boldness  of  a  true  allegiance  ? 
Thus,  and  with  some  appearance  of  reason  too,  may 
the  fanatic  justify  his  gloomy  mood. 

To  complete  the  apology  which  he  might  frame  for 
the  out-bursts  of  his  arrogance,  and  for  his  factious 
proceedings,  he  will  allege  (and  so  will  obtain  posses- 
sion of  his  third  excitementt)  that  the  entire  history 


♦  Page  58. 


t  Page  60. 


and  economy  of  Revelation  turns  upon  the  principle 
of  special  favours  granted  to  nations,  to  families,  and 
to  individuals,  who  have  been  honoured  and  benefited 
by  immense  advantages,  notwithstanding  enormous 
delinquencies.  In  fact  it  is  upon  this  very  ground 
that  fanatics  of  every  age— Jewish,  Mohammedan, 
and  Christian,  have  taken  their  stand. 

Picked  passages  may  thus  be  made  to  furnish  all 
that  is  wanted  to  warrant  the  rancour  and  presump- 
tion of  the  malign  religionist.  But  how  poorly  will 
he  defend  himself  when  the  great  and  unalterable 
prmciples  of  biblical  religion  are  duly  brought  together, 
and  are  made  to  bear  in  harmony  upon  the  heart ! 
The  effect  then  is  altogether  of  an  opposite  kind ;  so 
much  so,  that  even  the  enemies  of  the  Gospel  have 
been  compelled  to  confess  that  our  Bible  is  the  foun- 
tam  of  compassion,  the  rule  of  benignity,  and  the 
very  doctrine  of  meekness.  That  such  is  indeed  the 
fact,  may  be  sustained  first  in  the  mode  of  a  compre- 
hensive statement  of  principles  ;  and  then  in  the 
method  of  a  careful  induction  of  specific  instances. 
The  importance  of  the  subject  will  justify  our  pursu- 
ing, for  a  while,  both  these  lines  of  proof. 

We  have  then  to  make  good,  first  on  general 
grounds,  the  affirmation  that  the  Religion  of  the  Bible 
is  not  of  fanatical  tendencj\ 

When  the  delusions  of  a  depraved  self  esteem  are 
thoroughly  dispelled,  so  that  moral  and  spiritual  objects 
affect,  as  they  ought  the  conscience  of  a  man,  then, 
what  before  acted  as  the  excitement  of  spurious  zeal, 
or  as  the  occasion  of  malevolence,  takes  salutary  pos- 
session of  the  mind,  and  produces  the  mild  fruits  of 
piety  and  charity.  Thus,  for  example,  if  the  awful 
justice  of  God  be  truly  understood  as  the  necessary 
condition  of  that  purity  which  is  essential  to  the  Divine 
Nature,  and  as  a  mode  only  of  Sovereign  Benevo- 
lence, then  an  inference  from'  this  truth  comes  home 
with  weight  upon  the  personal  consciousness  of  guilt ; 
and  he  who  thus  sees  his  own  peril  in  the  light  of  the 


274 


RELIGION   OF   THE    BIBLE 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


275 


I '5 


divine  justice,  is  thenceforth  mainly  occupied  with 
those  emotions  of  shame  and  fear,  which  are  proper 
to  a  culprit.  The  wish  to  make  a  vindictive  applica- 
tion of  the  same  truth  to  others  (though  it  be  applica- 
ble) is  forgotten,  or  becomes  abhorrent  to  the  soul. 
This  surely  is  not  a  mere  refinement,  or  an  evasion  of 
the  difficulty.— If  the  fearful  retributive  energy  of  the 
Divine  Character  be  a  truth,  and  a  prime  truth  of 
Scripture,  upon  whom  does  it  bear? — Upon  all  trans- 
gressors, without  exception,  and  therefore  upon  each 
singly. — "But  I  sm  such,'Vsays  the  now  convicted 
nran,* "  and  to  me  God  is  terrible,  inasmuch  as  He  has 
the  power  and  the  determination  to  punish  sin."  The 
entire  current  of  ideas  is  in  this  manner  turned,  when 
once  a  belief  of  personal  danger  has  been  thoroughly 
awakened  ;  and  so  it  happens  that  the  man  who,  yes- 
terday, was  hurling  thunderbolts  at  his  fellows,  and 
exulting  in  the  displays  of  divine  displeasure,  may  now 
be  seen  prostrate,  as  in  the  dust,  and  unmindful  of 
every  thing  but  his  own  peril.  Nothing  more  is  needed 
to  bring  about  so  great  a  change,  but  that  the  Divine 
attributes  should  be  truly  understood  in  the  relation 
they  bear  to  personal  responsibility. 

Pursuing  the  same  path,  we  come  to  the  second 
excitement  of  religious  malevolence,  as  before  enu- 
merated ;  that  is  to  say — The  universal  corruption  of 
human  nature,  and  the  actual  guilt  of  all  men.  But 
is  it  true  that  this  pravity  is  of  a  spiritual  kind,  and 
does  it  affect  the  depth  of  the  human  heart  ?  Then — 
a  spiritual  knowledge  of  the  doctrine  implies  a  vivid 
and  expanded  consciousness  of  the  fact,  as  the  moral 
condition  of  the  individual.  To  an  enlightened  con- 
science this  personal  knowledge  of  the  evil  bias  of  the 
heart,  is  nothing  less  than  an  interpretation,  viva  voce, 
of  the  Scripture  doctrine  of  the  corruption  of  human 
nature.  Mankind  at  large  is  spiritually  abominable  in 
no  other  sense  than  that  in  which  "I  am  so;"  and  a 
close  and  serious  familiarity  with  the  subject  seldom 
fails  to  impart  to  each  mind  an  impression,  as  if  the 


corruption  of  the  individual  heart  were  more  deep 
and  deplorable  than  that  of  others.     »*  If  other  men 
are  objects  of  the  divine  displacency— I  much  more ;" 
such,  whether  in  fact  true  or  notj'is  the  language  (in 
very  many  cases)  of  genuine  contrition.     But  this  in- 
troversion of  feeling  places  the  dogma  altogether  on 
another  footing  than  it  might  before  have  occupied. 
Will  there  remain  in  a  bosom  that  entertains  these 
emotions  of  shame  and  compunction  any  residue  of 
arrogance  or  of  malice  towards  the  mass  of  mankind, 
because  sharers  in  the  same  depravity  ?     Surely  not! 
On  the  contrary,  a  tender  sympathy,  a  patient  forbear- 
ance, and  the  liveliest  zeal  of  benevolence  are  found 
to  consist  with  the  feehng  of  personal  humiliation.— 
The  fanatic,  with  his  misanthropy  and  his  scorn,  is 
quite  shut  out.— He— infatuated  man— knows  nothing 
of  himself,  and  therefore  has  no  indulgence  for  others. 
Let  the  dextrine  of  the  corruption  oY  human  nature 
be  expounded  as  it  may,  or  even  in  some  sense  exag- 
gerated, it  will  remain  innoxious,  so  long  as  it  thor- 
oughly penetrates  the  soul  that  receives  it ;  the  prin- 
ciple  becomes  poisonous,  only  when  thrown  out  and 
suffused. 

The  constituent  motives  of  genuine  contrition  seal 
the  exclusion  of  arrogance  from  the  heart  of  the  peni- 
tent, even  when  a  hope  of  the  special  favour  of  God 
is  entertained  with  the  utmost  distinctness.  If  it  be 
true,  as  the  Scriptures  affirm,  that  this  favour  towards 
individuals  is  absolutely  free — if  it  comes  irrespective- 
ly of  original  merit,  and  if  the  continuance  of  the  tem- 
per of  humiliation  is  the  fixed  condition  upon  which 
a  consciousness  of  it  is  granted  to  the  believer,  then 
nothing  can  be  felt,  in  looking  at  home,  but  simple 
gratitude ;  and  no  emotion  indulged,  in  looking  abroad, 
but  the  desire  that  others  should  partake  of  boons  of 
which  all  have  equal  need,  and  of  which  none  can 
claim  to  be  worthy. 

The  lurking  notion  on  which  the  fanatic  builds  his 
self-gratulations,  when  he  glances  at  the  herd  of  men, 


276 


RELIGION    OF   THE    BIBLE 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


277 


■A, 


■'!♦: 


1 


is  that  they  are,  by  the  stern  law  of  some  intrinsic 
disqualification,  for  ever  excluded  from  the  hope  of 
participating  in  the  divine  favour.  His  arrogance  is 
of  a  patrician  sort ;  and  he  would  fain  persuade  him- 
self that  an  eternal  impossibility  bars  the  access  of 
others  to  the  narrow  ground  he  occupies.  But  the 
Christian — taught  from  the  Bible,  learns  a  lesson  the 
very  reverse  of  this. — Commissioned  and  enjoined,  as 
he  is,  to  invite  "  all  men,  every  where  to  repent  and 
believe  the  Gospel,"  exclusiveness  of  feeling  is  denied 
him;  nor  can  he  harbour  that  grudging  of  grace, 
which  distinguishes  the  fanatic.  Are  the  blessings  of 
Christianity  actually  enjoyed  only  by  few  ?  Yes  alas, 
but  the  Christian  (by  plain  inference  from  his  princi- 
ples) is  taught  to  impute  it  to  himself  and  his  associates, 
as  a  fault  ''that  such  is  the  fact.  Far  from  thinking 
himself  entitled  to  rest  inertly  upon  the  sunny  spot  of 
Heavenly  favour  where  he  reclines,  he  knbws  himself 
to  be  bound  to  take  no  ease  until  his  neighbour — nay 
until  all  men  obtain  a  share  in  his  privilege.  If,  at  a 
first  glance,  it  might  seem  that  the  peculiarity  of  the 
Gospel  gives  sanction  to  fanatical  presumption,  we  can 
no  lonc^er  think  so  when  we  recollect  the  solemn  re- 
sponsibtlity  laid  upon  all  Christians  to  propagate  their 
faith  by  the  mild  methods  of  instruction.  How  is  it 
possible  for  a  man  selfishly  to  contemn  others  on  ac- 
count of  a  privilege  or  distinction  which  he  holds  on 
the  express  condition  of  imparting  it,  by  every  means  of 
persuasion,  to  all  around  him  ?  No  one  surely  can,  at 
the  same  moment,  be  diligently  scattering  a  benefit — 
and  exulting  in  his  exclusive  possession  of  it. 

The  scheme  of  religious  sentiment  contained  in  the 
Scriptures,  wants  then  only  to  be  received,  such  as  it 
is,  without  deduction — without  addition ;  and  to  be  re- 
ceived as  the  object  of  personal  feeling,  and  it  becomes 
altogether  benign  in  its  influence.  Experience  may 
be  appealed  to  in  proof  of  this  assertion ;  but  our  pres- 
ent purpose  demands  that  we  turn  to  the  Inspired 
Writings,  and  examine  in  a  number  of  instances,  the 


character  and  tendency  of  the  sentiments  they  recom- 
mend.  We  have  also  to  ascertain,  if  it  can  be  done, 
what  were  the  personal  dispositions  of  the  writers ; 
and  to  see  whether  those  who  promulgated  this  reli- 
gion were  themselves  free  from  the  malign  temper  of 
the  Fanatic. 

Peculiar  considerations  enhance  the  importance  of 
the  inquiry  we  have  in  hand.  The  fact  (already  ad- 
verted to)  is  not  to  be  denied,  that  the  Jewish  people, 
from  the  period  when  their  affairs  find  a  place  on  the 
page  of  general  history,  exhibit  an  extraordinary  in- 
stance of  national  religious  rancour,  and  stand  tbrth 
almost  as  the  Fanatics  by  eminence  of  the  ancient 
world.  It  becomes  then  a  question  by  no  means  friv- 
olous— When  did  this  malign  temper  first  make  its 
appearance  ;  and  whence  did  it  derive  its  special  mo- 
tives, and  its  aggravations  ?  Now  fairly  to  deal  with 
such  a  question,  we  should  of  course  look  to  the  reli- 
gious institutes  of  the  people,  as  contained  in  their  sa- 
cred writings,  as  well  as  examine  the  facts  and  cir- 
cumstances of  their  subsequent  history.  The  latter 
we  have  already  briefly  considered  ;*  the  former  is 
now  our  business. 

Nothing  is  at  any  time  to  be  gained  in  the  behalf  of 
religion  by  attempting  to  screen  the  Inspired  Books 
from  the  fair  scrutiny  to  which  as  historical  documents 
merely,  they  may  be  liable.  If  the  pious  frauds  and 
forgeries  that  once  were  accounted  lawful  and  praise- 
worthy, are  to  be  shunned  and  spoken  of  with  detesta- 
tion ;  so,  doubtless,  should  we  avoid  and  renounce  all 
those  indirect  procedures  in  matters  of  argument, 
which  partake  of  the  same  spirit.  Whoever  is  so  hap- 
py as  to  possess  an  intelligent  conviction  of  the  divine 
origin  of  the  Bible,  feels  himself  free  from  the  anxiety 
which  has  its  source  in  ignorance  and  infirmity  of 
judgment. 

We  have  before  remarked  that  the  influence  of  a 

*  Pages  197—203. 

25 


rm 


RELIGION   OF    THE    BIBLE 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


279 


m 


system  is  not  to  be  judged  of  by  the  single  elements  it 
may  contain ;  but  by  that  balance  of  motives  for 
which  it  provides.  Let  then  this  equitable  principle 
be  borne  in  mind  while  we  take  a  survey  of  the  Jew- 
ish institutions  (so  far  as  they  relate  to  our  subject)  and 
of  the  revelations  that  were,  in  the  course  of  ages, 
grafted  upon  the  Mosaic  economy. 

The  first  grand  peculiarity  of  the  Hebrew  polity, 
civil  and  sacred,  was  (it  need  hardly  be  said)  the  seclu- 
sion of  the  race  from  the  great  community  of  man- 
kind.— Now  it  is  certain  that  a  privileged  seclusion, 
and  especially  a  sacred  one,  tends,  on  the  ordinary 
principles  of  human  nature,  to  beget  unsocial  and  fanat- 
ical sentiments.  This  general  truth  might  be  admitted, 
even  in  the  fullest  extent,  and  room  would  yet  be  left 
to  allege,  that  an  incidental  or  possible  evil  of  this  sort 
was  well  compensated  by  the  momentous  purpose  of 
which  that  separation  was  the  necessary  means  ;- — tho 
purpose  being  nothing  less  than  the  preservation  in 
the  world  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Divine  Unity,  and  the 
maintenance  of  a  pure  moral  code  as  the  law  of  an 
entire  people.  But  we  leave  untouched  any  such 
ground  of  apology,  and  prefer  to  ask — In  what  style 
or  terms  was  the  seclusion  of  the  Hebrew  race  effect- 
ed ?  The  answer  must  be,  that  it  was  brought  about 
in  a  mode  so  mortifying  to  the  common  emotions  of 
national  pride,  that  the  endurance  of  it  on  the  part  of 
a  rude  and  factious  people  is  no  slender  proof  that  the 
Legislator,  in  the  first  instance,  and  after  him  the 
Prophets,  were  sustained  in  the  exercise  of  their  au- 
thority by  miraculous  powers.  Nothing  can  be  ima- 
gined more  vehemently  at  variance  with  the  usual 
practice  and  policy  of  founders  of  nations,  or  more 
unlike  the  tones  of  patriotic  bards,  than  is  the  language 
incessantly  repeated  by  Moses,  and  by  the  inspired 
teachers,  as  they  succeed  each  other  through  the 
course  of  ages.  One  is  actually  tempted  to  suppose 
that  he  and  they  aimed  at  nothing  so  much  as  to  feel 
and  ascertain  the  extreme  limit  of  their  power  over 


the  popular  mind,  by  outraging  to  the  utmost  its  self- 
love  and  vanity. 

Whatever  momentary  objurgations  might  have  had 
place  between  the  Hebrew  leader  and  the  refractory 
tribes  that  followed  him  into  the  desert,  or  whatever 
terms  of  reproach  might  have  been  used  by  him  on 
particular  occasions,  it  did  not  seem  necessary  that 
such   expressions   of  indignation —  almost   of  scorn 
which  the  provocation  of  the  time  called  forth,  should 
be  recorded  and  should  be  mingled  insepurately  with 
the  national  code  and  history,  and  so  be  handed  down 
to  posterity.      Unless  a   definite   and    very   peculiar 
object  had  been  in  view,  what  Legislator,  guided  by 
common  sense,  would  have  so  enhanced  the  probabil- 
ity that  his  code  should  soon  be  consigned  to  oblivion 
as  IS  done  by  inserting,  almost  on  every  page  throuc^h- 
out  his  Institutes,  the  most  obnoxious  and  disparaafng 
epithets,  and  the  most  humiliating  narrations  ?—SuT'ely 
a  higher  wisdom  than  that  of  the  human  legislator  is 
here  apparent ;— or  else  there  is  less  wisdom  than  the 
most  simple  of  mankind  are  gifted  with.     Are  we  not 
compelled  to  confess,  if  tlie  case  be  attentively  con- 
sidered, that  a  special  provision  is  made  in  the  Penta- 
teuch for  counteracting  that  national  arrogance  which 
the  favoured  seclusion  of  the  people  was  of  itself  likely 
to  engender?     This  same  code  of  sacred  privilege 
and  of  separation  from  the  bulk  of  mankind,  which 
the  priests  were  enjoined  perpetually  to  rehearse  in 
the  ears  of  the  people— this  Law,  which  was  not  only 
to  be  cherished  m  the  heart,  but  to  be  "taurrht  dili- 
gently unto  children— to  be  talked  of  in  the  hoSse  and 
m  the  way— m  lying  down,  and  in  rising  up ;  which 
was  to  be  bound  as  a  sign  upon  the  hand,  and  as  front- 
lets  between  the  eyes,  which  was  to  be  inscribed  upon 
the  door-posts  and  upon  the  gates  of  the  city  :"*— this 
Bame   law,   so   reiterated,   and   so  forced   upon   the 
memory,  carried  with  it  incessant  and  pointed  rebuke* 

♦  Deut.  vi.  6,  7,  8 ;  and  xi.  18. 


280 


RELIGION   OF   THE   BIBLE 


WOT   PANATTCAL. 


S8t| 


H.. 


of  the  national  vanity.  It  was  one  thLog  for  Moses  to 
have  pungently  upbraided  a  contumacious  populace  in 
moments  of  sedition ;  and  quite  another  for  him  to 
consign  these  same  reproaches  to  perpetuity,  by  weav- 
ing them  into  his  history,  and  by  wedging  them  be- 
tween his  statutes.  Yet  so  we  find  them  in  scores  of 
places. — "  Ye  are  a  stiff-necked  people,  an  evil  nation ; 
— I  will  come  up  into  the  midst  of  thee  in  a  moment, 
and  consume  thee ;  therefore  now  put  off  thine  orna- 
ments from  thee,  that  I  may  know  what  to  do  unto 
thee."* 

A  most  explicit  and  particular  caution  against  the 
indulojence  of  national  pride  is  given  by  the  Leader  ot 
the  Hebrew  tribes  when,  on  the  very  borders  of  the 
promised  land,  he  announced  to  the  people  the  terrible 
part  they  were  to  act  as  executioners  of  the  divine 
displeasure  upon  the  corrupted  occupants  of  the  soil. — 
Can  we  read  it  without  admiration  of  the  courage  of 
Moses ; — or  without  conviction  of  his  divine  legation  ? 
*'  Speak  not  thou  in  thine  heart,  after  that  the  Lord 
thy  God  hath  cast  out  the  nations  from  before  thee, 
saying — For  my  righteousness  the  Lord  hath  brought 
me  in  to  possess  this  land.  But  for  the  wickedness  of 
these  nations  the  Lord  doth  drive  them  out  from  before 
thee.  Not  for  thy  righteousness,  or  for  the  uprightness 
of  thine  heart,  dost  thou  go  to  possess  their  land. — 
Understand  therefore,  that  the  Lord  thy  God  giveth 
thee  not  this  good  land  to  possess  it  for  thy  righteous- 
ness ;  for  thou  art  a  stiff-necked  people.  Remember, 
and  forget  not,  how  thou  provokedst  the  Lord  thy  God 
to  wrath  in  the  wilderness :  from  the  day  that  thou 
didst  depart  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt,  until  ye  came 
into  this  place,  ye  have  been  rebellious  against  the 
Lord. — Ye  have  been  rebellious  against  the  Lord  from 
the  day  that  I  knew  you."t 

Or  if  it  had  been  the  intention  of  their  Leader  indi- 
directly,  yet  effectually  to  lay  the  pride  and  youthful 


exultation  of  the  people,  just  bursting  as  tbey  were 
upon  the  stage  of  political  existence,  and  just  setting 
foot  upon  the  career  of  conquest,  nothing  could  have 
been  done,  or  thought  of,  more  conducive  to  such  a 
purpose,  than  the  uttering  that  tremendous  commina- 
tive  prediction  of  the  ultimate  miseries  of  the  nation, 
with  which  he  takes  leave  of  them.  On  any  ordinary 
pnnciples  it  might  justly  have  been  supposed  tha't 
those  prophetic  curses,  upon  which  history  has  made 
so  long  and  sad  a  comment,  would  have  operated 
either  to  break  the  heart  of  the  people,  or  to  have 
utterly  disaffected  their  minds  to  a  religious  system 
that  entailed  penalties  so  dreadful.  And  the  more  so, 
when  a  confident  or  positive  announcement  of  the 
actual  issue  was  subjoined  to  the  exhibition  of  blessings 
and  curses.— "I  call  heaven  and  earth  to  record  against 
you.—For  I  KNOW  that  after  my  death  ye  will  utterly 
corrupt  yourselves,  and  turn  aside  from  the  way  that  I 
have  commanded  you  ;  and  evil  will  befall  you  in  the 
latter  days."* 

In  terms  then,  such  as  these,  was  it  that  the  seclu- 
sion  and  the  sacred  privileges  of  the  race  were,  in  the 
first  instance,  sanctioned  !  And  the  tone  set  by  Moses 
was  chimed-in  with  by  each  of  the  seers  and  poets  in 
the  long  succession  of  ages.  The  buddings  of  religious 
national  insolence  we  find  to  be  nipped  at  oncCj^'and 
with  a  stern  severity,  by  each  divinely-commissioned 
personage,  as  he  comes  on  the  stage  of  sacred  history. 
Reproof,  reproach,  if  not  contempt,  is  the  character- 
istic of  the  Jewish  canonical  writings.  Nor  is  so 
much  as  one  passage  to  be  found  there,  the  tendency 
of  which  is  to  cherish  the  feeling  that  might  naturally 
have  sprung  from  a  conscious  enjoyment  of  preroga- 
tives and  honours  conferred  upon  the  nation  by  the 
Sovereign  of  the  Universe.  Joshua,  captain  and  con- 
queror,   like  Moses    the    legislator,    surrenders    hi^ 

*  Deut.  xxxi.  27—29. 


♦  Exod.  xxjiii.  5, 


t  Deut.  ix.  4—7,  24. 


25^ 


1>82 


RELIGION   OP  THE   BIBLE 


NOT    FANATICAL. 


an 


charge  and  dies,  with  language  on  his  lips  of  discour- 
agement and  mistrust.* 

A  particular  and  yet  remarkable  instance  of  the  care 
taken  to  damp  the  arrogance  of  the  people  is  found  in 
the  form  of  thanksgiving  that  was  put  into  the  mouth 
of  the  Israelite  when  summoned  to  offer  the  first-fruits 
of  the  year  to  the  Lord.  "  And  thou  shalt  go  unto  the 
priest  that  shall  be  in  those  days,"  with  the  basket  of 
fniits  in  hand,  "  and  thou  shall  speak  and  say  before 
the  Lord  thy  God — A  Syrian  ready  to  perish  was  my 
father,  and  he  went  down  into  Egypt,  and  sojourned 
there  with  a  few,  and  became  there  a  nation,  great, 
mighty,  and  populous/'f  Let  it  be  observed,  as  we 
pass,  that  the  entire  profession,  including  as  it  does  all 
the  elements  of  piety  and  benevolence,  might  with 
much  effect  be  placed  by  the  side  of  the  festal  litur- 
gies of  other  nations,  wherein  the  exorbitant  absurdi- 
ties of  national  vanity  have  usually  been  indulged 
without  restraint. 

But  to  that  venerable  book  of  sacred  odes  and  pub- 
lic anthems,  of  which  the  founder  of  the  Israelitish 
monarchy  was  the  chief  author,  we  ought  naturally  to 
look  for  the  evidence  we  are  in  search  of. — Was,  we 
ask,  that  spiritual  superciliousness  which  religious 
privilege  and  seclusion  are  wont  to  engender,  cherished, 
or  was  it  repressed — was  it  authenticated,  or  was  it 
mortified,  by  the  divinely-sanctioned  poetry  of  the 
Hebrew  people,  and  by  the  choruses  of  the  Tem- 
ple ?  First  let  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  the  peo- 
ple and  of  their  prince  at  the  juncture  when  the 
Psalms  came  into  general  use,  be  considered. — After 
four  centuries  of  political  disquiet  and  distress ; — 
centuries  of  long  depression  and  transient  triumph,  and 
just  after  the  failure  of  the  people's  first  essay  at  roy- 
alty, the  nation  had  rallied,  had  mustered  its  spirits, 
had  become  invasive,  had  imposed  fear  in  turn  upon 
all  its  neighbours,  had  trodden  on  the  necks  of  its 


*  Josh.  wi?.  15— '^T. 


t  Peut.  WYi.  4 — to. 


ancient  oppressors,  and  was  now  fast  coming  into 
quiet  possession  of  the  signal  advantages  of  its  soil  and 
position: — the  Hebrew  people  was  rising  from  the 
dust  and  putting  on  the  attire  of  the  bridegroom,  and 
was  soon  to  abash  its  rivals  by  the  splendours,  as  well 
as  by  the  strength  of  national  prosperity.  And  all  this 
dazzling  advancement  was  taking  place  under  the  hand 
of  an  obscurely-born  captain,  whom,  in  the  style  of 
common  history,  we  should  call  an  adventurer,  and 
whose  unstable  power  demanded  the  support  of  all 
available  means  of  popularity. 

At  the  very  same  moment  the  primitive  worship,  as 
enjoined  to  the  people  by  Moses,  was  restored  and 
settled,  and  its  services  expanded  and  adorned.     This 
then  assuredly  was  the  season  in  which  the  politic  and 
heroic  founder  of  a  monarchy  would  endeavour  to  ex- 
alt to  the  highest  pitch  the  national  enthusiasm,  and 
vvould  labour  to  exacerbate  all  well  founded  preten- 
sions;   and   especially  to   throw  into  the   shade,  or 
utterly  to  blot  out,  if  possible,  the  anciently  recorded 
dishonours   of  the   nation.     Shall  we  not   find   him 
avoiding,  as  by  instinct,  the  obsolete  themes  of  the 
people's  dishonour?     His  discretion  surely  will  impel 
him— king  and  poet  as  he  is,  to  strike  another  wire. 
No,  it  is  quite  otherwise,  for  this  man  of  incipient  and 
uncertain  fortune,  this  nursling  of  the  sheepfold  and 
the  desert,  employs  the  powers  of  song  for  no  such 
purposes  whatever.     David  wielded  those  two  scep- 
tres, of  which  the  one  often  proves  quite  as  potent  as 
the  other,  in  the  instance  of  an  unsophisticated  people. 
The  warrior-king,  is  Seer  and  Bard  ;  and  it  is  he  who 
gives  forth  the  sacred  anthems  of  public  worship  I 
Rare  conjunction  of  talents  and  powers  !  how  shall 
such  choice  means  be  employed,  so  as  most  effectually 
to   enhance  the  proud  patriotism  of  the  people — to 
blend  that  patriotism  with  the  influence  of  religion, 
and,  not  least,    to  shed   the  delusive  splendour    of 
poetry  and  fable  over  the  early  history  of  the  race  ? 
On  all  grounds  of  ordinary  calculation,  and  on  every 


1  ■!* 


284 


RELIGION    OF    THE    BIBLE 


known  principle  of  human  nature,  and  according  to 
the  uniform  tenor  of  history,  we  should  expect  nothing 
less  in  the  Psalms  of  David  than  mythic  exaggeration, 
mixed  up  with  the  stirring  elements  of  sacred  and 
civil  fanaticism.  But  are  these  compositions  of  any 
such  sort  ?  Nothing  can  be  more  widely  opposed  to 
the  anticipations  we  might  have  formed.  These  sacred 
odes  and  solemn  anthems  subserve  no  purposes  of 
kingly  policy,  and  can  be  explained  only  vs^hen  we 
adopt  the  belief  which  a  single  apostolic  phrase  con- 
densely  expresses — that  David  "spake  by  the  Holy 
Ghost." 

Before  we  turn  to  particular  passages,  it  is  pertinent 
to  notice  the  general  spirit  of  the  poems  attributed  to 
David.  It  must  be  confessed  then  that  an  air  of  sad- 
ness pervades  them.  They  abound  with  prayers 
under  pressure  of  calamity ;  and  are  thick  set  with 
the  sighs  and  tears  of  a  heavy  heart.  Nothing  indi- 
cates that  the  royal  lyre  was  at  all  thought  of  as  an 
instrument  of  ambition  : — the  exploits  and  triumphs  of 
the  young  hero,  though  cliaunted  by  the  damsels  of 
Zion,  are  not  made  the  themes  of  his  own  song.  Let 
it  be  affirmed  that  they  were  composed  in  the  early 
years  of  his  exile,  and  under  privation  ;  yet  ihey  were 
not  afterwards  supplanted  by  verse  more  befitting  the 
glories  of  kingly  state. 

The  fifteenth,  which  is  the  first  of  these  composi- 
tions that  plainly  seems  intended  for  public  worship,  is 
severely  didactic ;  and  comes  to  its  close  without  a 
single  note  of  joy.  That  noble  ode  (the  ISth)  which, 
more  than  any  other,  is  exultant,  being  the  one  that 
signalizes  the  final  triumph  of  David  over  his  domestic 
foes,  is  remarkable  for  those  often-repeated  phrases 
that  attribute  the  entire  success  of  his  course  to  divine 
interposition : — if  it  be  a  conqueror  that  speaks  in  these 
metres,  he  is  such  because  the  instrument  of  power 
from  on  high.  Nor  is  the  pride  of  the  nation,  any 
more  than  that  of  the  prince,  flattered,  through  the 
course  of  the  psalm.     The  same  spirit  reappears  on. 


NOT    FANATICAL. 


285 


each  similar  occasion: — it  is  piety,  not  pride,  that 
inspires  the  song  of  gratulation.  As  thus ; — "  Some 
trust  in  chariots,  and  some  in  horses ;  but  we  will 
remember  the  name  of  the  Lord  our  God."  The  24th 
psalm,  like  the  15th,  is  manifestly  a  triumphant  anthem, 
to  which  all  the  powers  of  music  should  give  effect, 
when  the  congregated  people  met  on  the  hill  of  Zion. 
First  mindful  of  the  great  principles  of  practical  virtue, 
apart  from  which  all  worship  is  mockery,  it  swells 
into  the  loftiest  strain  of  celestial  rapture. — But  who 
is  the  hero — and  what  is  the  subject  ? — not  David ; — 
it  is  not  he  whose  approach  is  announced  as  *'  the 
glorious  King,"  and  whose  entrance  upon  the  precincts 
of  worship  is  to  be  proclaimed  by  blast  of  trumpets. 
But  '*  The  Lord  of  hosts — He  is  the  King  of  glory  ! " 
Judged  of  by  the  severest  rules  of  criticism,  can  there 
be  detected  in  this  impassioned  anthem  even  so  much 
as  a  stain  of  royal  vanity  or  of  national  arrogance  ? 
Or  to  bring  the  question  close  home  to  our  subject, 
does  it  appear  that,  to  foment  the  fanaticism  of  this 
secluded  people  was  the  ruling  intention  of  its  sacred 
poetry  ?  We  appeal  for  an  answer  to  those  who  have 
read  history,  and  are  not  ignorant  of  human  nature. 

The  care  of  morals,  and  a  prompt  jealousy  for  the 
Divine  honour,  meet  us  wherever  we  might  most 
expect  (on  natural  principles)  to  find  excitements  of 
another  sort.  Let  the  reader  pursue  this  scrutiny,  and 
adduce,  if  they  exist,  any  contrary  instances;  espe- 
cially let  him  look  to  such  of  these  odes  as  have  a 
prophetic  aspect  (for  the  future,  even  more  than  the 
past,  is  apt  to  inflame  the  imagination)  or  to  those 
which  seem  designed  for  public  worship — the  worship 
of  an  assembled  nation.  The  historical  odes  are  not 
less  remarkably  abstinent  of  flattery  to  the  popular 
feeling,  and  indeed  must  be  deemed  altogether  unpar- 
alleled instances  of  national  poetic  records,  inasmuch 
as  the  spirit  and  design  of  each  of  them  is  penitential, 
rather  than  exultant.  Such  is  the  recapitulation  of 
the  Mosaic  story  in  the  78th  Psalm.— What  were  the 


286 


RELIGION    OP  THE    BIBLE 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


287 


things  that  had  been  "  heard  and  known,"  and  whicFr 
"  the  fathers  had  told "  to  the  sons  ?  not  marvellous 
tales  of  prowess,  and  the  conquest  of  monsters  and 
titans ; — but  the  rebellions  of  the  people's  ancestors,, 
and  the  patience  of  their  God.  And  this  same  reca- 
pitulation was  enjoined  as  a  "  statute  for  ever,"  that 
each  generation,  as  it  rose  up,  might  learn  to  "  set 
their  hope  in  God,  and  not  forget  his  works ;  but  keep 
his  commandments ;  and  might  not  be  as  their  fathers, 
a  stubborn  and  rebellious  generation — a  generation 
that  set  not  their  heart  aright,  and  whose  spirit  was 
not  stedfast  with  God."  We  should  mark  the  close 
of  this  mortifying  recital,  which  ends  in  the  establish- 
ment of  the  throne  of  David,  who  waa  "  taken  from 
the  sheepfolds,  and  from  following  the  ewes  great  with 
young  ! "  A  climax  this>  which,  though  quite  in  har- 
mony with  the  spirit  of  the  poem,  and  of  the  collection, 
certainly  does  not  betray  much,  either  of  royal  arro- 
gance, or  of  fabulous  exaggeration. 

The  same  themes,  treated  in  nearly  the  same  spirit, 
present  themselves  in  the  three  consecutive  odes  (105^ 
6,7;  and  also  in  the  135th);  which  last  beautifully 
teaches  the  doctrine  of  divine  providence,  in  the  best 
of  all  methods  that  of  historical  inference.  To  exalt 
Jehovah,  to  humble  the  people  as  a  race  that  had 
never  gratefully  received,  or  duly  improved  its  ex- 
traordinary privileges,  is  the  purport  of  the  whole ; 
and  in  reading  them  it  is  impossible  that  a  candid 
mind  should  charge  the  fault  upon  the  ancient  litera- 
ture, any  more  than  upon  the  primitive  institutions  of 
the  Jewish  people,  if,  in  a  subsequent  age,  the  descend- 
ants of  Abraham  are  found  to  have  been  distinguished 
by  religious  and  national  arrogance.  That  the  highly 
important  prerogatives  of  the  race,  as  the  chosen 
people  of  God,  should  be  spoken  of  and  rejoiced  in, 
is  only  what  piety  and  gratitude  demand.— "The  I^rd 
sheweth  his  word  unto  Jacob;  his  statutes  and  his 
judgments  unto  Israel. — He  hath  not  dealt  so  witK 
•ny  nation ;  and  as  for  his  judgments,  they  have  nol 


linown  them."  *  This  was  nothing  more  than  simple 
fact.  But  the  statement  of  it  is  mixed  with  none  of 
the  scorn  or  virulence  that  betrays  a  fanatical  temper, 
and  which  belonged  to  the  Jew  of  a  later  era  ! 

But  did  the  prophets  of  after  ages  work  upon  that 
easily  excited  feeling  of  spiritual  vanity  and  rancour 
which,  at  the  period  of  the  Roman  supremacy,  and 
long  afterwards,  characterised  the  Jewish  people  ?  To 
answer  this  question  we  must  cast  the  eye  over  the 
line  of  the  prophetic  ministry,  from  the  age  of  Hosea, 
to  that  of  Malachi,  embracing  a  disturbed  and  event- 
ful period  of  four  hundred  years.  Every  reader  of 
the  sacred  documents  knows  that  the  impression 
which,  as  a  mass,  they  make  upon  the  mind,  is  that 
of  a  long  lamentation,  and  a  perpetual  reproof  The 
function  of  the  Hebrew  prophet,  of  every  era,  if  we 
were  required  to  describe  it  in  a  single  term,  must  be 
called  an  office  of  upbraiding.  These  venerable  wri- 
tings are  immensly  remote  from  that  colour  of  exag- 
geration and  flattery  which  belongs  to  the  rhapsodies 
of  the  Bard  among  passionate  and  rude  nations.  The 
virulence  of  Jewish  pride,  it  is  certain,  had  not  its 
source  in  the  page  of  the  prophets,  any  more  than  in 
the  odes  of  David.     But  we  are  to  adduce  passages. 

"I  have  hewed  them  by  the  prophets; — I  have 
slain  them  by  the  words  of  my  mouth."f — Descrip- 
tive  metaphor  !  /lot  only  proper  to  the  past,  but  truly 
anticipative  of  what  was  to  be  the  general  strain  of 
the  prophetic  message  in  succeeding  ages.  The  good- 
ness of  both  branches  of  the  Hebrew  stock,  was,  we 
are  told  by  Hosea,  "  like  a  morning  cloud,  and  as  the 
early  dew:"  and  of  both  nations  this  ancient  seer 
declares,  that,  "  they  had  forgotten  their  Maker,  and 
were  like  a  deceitful  bow. — Israel  is  an  empty  vine :" 
— "  he  has  deeply  corrupted  himself." J — Both  Israel 
and  Judah  are  invited  to  return  to  their  God;  but  it 
must  be  with  hearty  humiliations.     In  not  a  sentence 

♦  Ps.  cxlviL  19,  20.    t  Hosea  vl  5.    X  Hosea  vi.  4.  viii.  14.  x.  1. 


it  ! 


■■■■i 


^■' ..  *. 


-  i.      ,, 


!M6 


RELIGION    OF  THE    BIBLE 


things  that  had  been  "  heard  and  known,"  and  which; 
"  the  fathers  had  told "  to  the  sons  ?  not  marvellous 
tales  of  prowess,  and  the  conquest  of  monsters  and 
titans ; — but  the  rebellions  of  the  people's  ancestors,, 
and  the  patience  of  their  God.  And  this  same  reca- 
pitulation w^as  enjoined  as  a  "  statute  for  ever,"  that 
each  generation,  as  it  rose  up,  might  learn  to  "  set 
their  hope  in  God,  and  not  forget  his  works ;  but  keep 
his  commandments ;  and  might  not  be  as  their  fathers,^ 
a  stubborn  and  rebellious  generation — a  generation 
that  set  not  their  heart  aright,  and  whose  spirit  was 
not  stedfast  with  God."  We  should  mark  the  close 
of  this  mortifying  recital,  which  ends  in  the  establish- 
ment of  the  throne  of  David,  who  was  "  taken  from 
the  sheepfolds,  and  from  following  the  ewes  great  with 
young  ! "  A  climax  this,  which,  though  quite  in  har- 
mony with  the  spirit  of  the  poem,  and  of  the  collection,, 
certainly  does  not  betray  much,  either  of  royal  arro- 
gance, or  of  fabulous  exaggeration. 

The  same  themes,  treated  in  nearly  the  same  spirit, 
present  themselves  in  the  three  consecutive  odes  (105,. 
6,  7 ;  and  also  in  the  135th) ;  which  last  beautifully 
teaches  the  doctrine  of  divine  providence,  in  the  best 
of  all  methods  that  of  historical  inference.  To  exalt 
Jehovah,  to  humble  the  people  as  a  race  that  had 
never  gratefully  received,  or  duly  improved  its  ex- 
traordinary  privileges,  is  the  purport  of  the  whole ; 
and  in  reading  them  it  is  impossible  that  a  candid 
mind  should  charge  the  fault  upon  the  ancient  litera- 
ture, any  more  than  upon  the  primitive  institutions  of 
the  Jewish  people,  if,  in  a  subsequent  age,  the  descend- 
ants of  Abraham  are  found  to  have  been  distinguished 
by  religious  and  national  arrogance.  That  the  highly 
important  prerogatives  of  the  race,  as  the  chosen 
people  of  God,  should  be  spoken  of  and  rejoiced  in, 
is  only  what  piety  and  gratitude  demand.— "The  Lord 
sheweth  his  word  unto  Jacob;  his  statutes  and  his 
judgments  unto  Israel.— He  hath  not  dealt  so  with 
any  nation ;  and  as  for  his  judgments,  they  have  noi 


!!! 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


28r 


linown  them."  *  This  was  nothing  more  than  simple 
fact.  But  the  statement  of  it  is  mixed  with  none  of 
the  scorn  or  virulence  that  betrays  a  fanatical  temper, 
and  which  belonged  to  the  Jew  of  a  later  era  ! 

But  did  the  prophets  of  after  ages  work  upon  that 
easily  excited  feeling  of  spiritual  vanity  and  rancour 
which,  at  the  period  of  the  Roman  supremacy,  and 
long  afterwards,  characterised  the  Jewish  people  ?  To 
answer  this  question  we  must  cast  the  eye  over  the 
line  of  the  prophetic  ministry,  from  the  age  of  Hosea, 
to  that  of  Malachi,  embracing  a  disturbed  and  event- 
ful period  of  four  hundred  years.  Every  reader  of 
the  sacred  documents  knows  that  the  impression 
which,  as  a  mass,  they  make  upon  the  mind,  is  that 
of  a  long  lamentation,  and  a  perpetual  reproof  The 
function  of  the  Hebrew  prophet,  of  every  era,  if  we 
were  required  to  describe  it  in  a  single  term,  must  be 
called  an  office  of  upbraiding.  These  venerable  wri- 
tings are  immensly  remote  from  that  colour  of  exag- 
geration and  flattery  which  belongs  to  the  rhapsodies 
of  the  Bard  among  passionate  and  rude  nations.  The 
virulence  of  Jewish  pride,  it  is  certain,  had  not  its 
source  in  the  page  of  the  prophets,  any  more  than  in 
the  odes  of  David.     But  we  are  to  adduce  passages. 

"  I  have  hewed  them  by  the  prophets ; — I  have 
slain  them  by  the  words  of  my  mouth."t — Descrip- 
tive metaphor  !  ^ot  only  proper  to  the  past,  but  truly 
anticipative  of  what  was  to  be  the  general  strain  of 
the  prophetic  message  in  succeeding  ages.  The  good- 
ness of  both  branches  of  the  Hebrew  stock,  was,  we 
are  told  by  Hosea,  "  like  a  morning  cloud,  and  as  the 
early  dew :"  and  of  both  nations  this  ancient  seer 
declares,  that,  "  they  had  forgotten  their  Maker,  and 
were  like  a  deceitful  bow. — Israel  is  an  empty  vine :" 
— "  he  has  deeply  corrupted  himself  "J — Both  Israel 
and  Judah  are  invited  to  return  to  their  God;  but  it 
aiust  be  with  heartv  humiliations.     In  not  a  sentence 

*  Ps.  cxlvil  19,  20.    t  Hosea  vi.  5.    t  Hosea  vi.  4.  viii.  14.  x.  1. 


288 


RELIGION    OP   THE    BIBLE 


of  this  venerable  composition  can  we  detect  an  indi- 
cation of  the  existence,  at  that  time,  of  the  spiritual 
presumption  which  afterwards  marked  the  temper  of 
the  people  ;  much  less  is  any  such  spirit  favoured  by 
the  prophet :  on  the  contrary,  a  tone  of  disparagement 
distinguishes  the  whole  of  the  prophecy. 

A  remarkable  rebuke  of  that  malign  complacency 
in  the  execution  of  Divine  wrath  which  is  too  often 
admitted  by  gloomy  and  turbid  minds,  meets  us  in  the 
book  of  Jonah. — "  Should  I  not  spare  Nineveh,  that 
great  city?"* — Such  is  the  style  of  the  compassion  of 
Heaven  (indubitable  mark  of  genuineness)  and  how 
unlike  the  petulance  of  the  seer,  who  would  rather 
have  stood  by  and  have  witnessed  the  instant  destruc- 
tion of  an  entire  people,  than  that  his  own  denuncia- 
tions should  seem  to  be  falsified  !  If  at  any  time  we 
find,  even  in  a  prophet  of  Jehovah,  a  false  sentiment — 
that  sentiment  is  at  once  condemned  and  disowned  ; — 
So  true  is  it  that  the  Hebrew  Scriptures,  far  from 
being  of  fanatical  tendency,  counteract  every  feeling 
of  that  order. 

We  descend  the  stream  of  time,  yet  do  not  descry, 
on  either  bank  of  the  current,  that  noxious  growth  of 
religious  pride  which  we  are  in  search  of.  We  meet 
however  with  the  most  pertinent  proofs  of  the  truth 
of  our  general  doctrine — That  the  Jewish  people, 
though  favoured  and  sequestered,  and*  taught  to  think 
themselves  advantaged  beyond  any  other  nation,  was 
so  dealt  with  on  the  part  of  the  prophets  as  to  divert 
at  its  very  spring,  the  risings  of  spiritual  presumption. 
Let  us  hear  on  this  point  the  eloquent  herdsman  of 
Tekoa.  *'  Hear  this  word  that  the  Lord  hath  spoken 
against  you,  O  children  of  Israel ;  against  the  whole 
family  which  I  brought  up  from  the  land  of  Egypt, 
saying,  You  only  have  I  known  of  all  the  families 

OF  the  earth  ;    therefore   I  WILL    PUNISH    YOU   FOR 

all  your  iniquities.'' t     Pungent  admixture  of  the 


♦  Jonah  iv.  11. 


t  Amos  iii.  1,  2. 


NOT  fanatical. 


289 


counteractive  elements  of  religious  feeling !  as  if  the 
privilege  and  distinction  of  the  race  were  to  be  kept 
in  mind,  only  as  a  special  grnund  of  dread  and  shame  I 
If  this  single  passage  had  been  duly  borne  in  mind 
and  pondered  by  the  zealots  of  the  age  of  Vespasian, 
the  fate  and  history  of  the  people  would  have  been 
other  than  they  were.  Each  portion  of  the  same 
prophecy  mingles  rebukes  and  promises,  along  with  a 
stern  enforcement  of  the  capital  principles  of  public 
justice,  and  as  we  read  we  are  compelled  to  confess 
that  the  Seer  was  not  one  who,  by  whispering  soft 
things  in  the  ear  of  the  great  and  the  rich,  made  his 
w  ay  from  rustic  obscurity  to  fortune. — **  Your  tread- 
ing is  on  the  poor ; — ye  take  from  him  burdens  of 
wheat;  therefore  (though)  ye  have  built  houses  of 
hewn  stone,  ye  shall  not  live  in  them : — I  know  your 
manifold  transgressions,  and  your  mighty  sins. — They 
afilict  the  just;  they  t-ake  a  bribe,  and  they  turn 
aside  the  poor  in  the  ^ule."* — iVor,  on  the'  other 
hand,  did  the  prophet  flatter  the  mass  of  the  people 
by  cherishing  their  religious  insolence  ;  for  example — 
"  I  hate — I  despise  your  feast  days,  and  I  will  not 
smell  in  your  solemn  assemblies. — Take  thou  away 
from  me  the  noise  of  thy  songs,  for  I  will  not  hear 
the  melody  of  thy  viols. — But  let  judgment  run  down 
as  waters,  and  righteousness  as  a  mighty  stream  l^f 

One  of  the  most  animated  of  all  the  prophetic  de- 
scriptions of  the  future  glory  and  prosperity  of  the 
descendants  of  Abraham,  forms  the  sequel  of  an  an- 
nouncement of  wrath  immediately  near.  "  Alas  for 
the  day  !  for  the  day  of  the  Lord  is  at  hand ;  as  a  de- 
struction from  the  Almighty  shall  it  come  :"  and  these 
two  members  of  the  prediction  are  made  to  hinge 
upon  the  fact  of  national  repentance.  "  Then  will  the 
Lord  be  jealous  for  his  land,  and  pity  his  people."J 
A  national  hope,  not  so  enveloped  into  a  caution  or 
reproof,  is  scarcely  found  on  the  sacred  page. 

*  Amos  V,  11, 12.        t  Amos  v.  23,  24.        I  Joel  i.  15.  ii.  18. 

26 


296 


RELIGION  OF  THE   BIBLE 


Isaiah,  the  prophet  who  more  clearly  than  any 
other,  saw  the  bright  futurity  of  his  people's  glory, 
and  who  more  distinctly  than  any  other  spoke  of  the 
Great  Deliverer  of  mankind,  observes  invariably  the 
rule  his  predecessors  had  adhered  to — namely,  of  hold- 
ing a  tight  check  upon  the  emotions  of  national  pride. 
This  is  the  theme  to  which  not  merely  he  recurs  on 
particular  occasions,  but  which  he  place?^  foremost,  as 
if  it  were  to  be  the  text  of  his  prophotic  ministry. 
Mortifying  exordium,  truly,  of  his  message  to  a  nation, 
favoured  of  God  !     **Hear,  O  heavens,  md  give  ear, 

0  earth  ;  for  the  Lord  hath  spoken : — I  nave  nourish- 
ed and  brought  up  children,  and  they  have  rebelled 
against  me ! — The  ox  knovveth  his  owner,  and  the 
ass  his  master's  crib  ;  but  Israel  doth  not  know,  my 
people  doth  not  consider, — Ah,  sinful  nation , — a  peo- 
ple laden  with  iniquity  ; — why  should  ye  be  stricken 
anv  more  ! — Ye  will  revolt  more  and  more  : — the 
whole  head  is  sick,  and  the  whole  heart  Hiint  !"*  To 
dash  to  the  ground  the  haughtiness  of  spurious  piety  is 
the  very  first  business  of  the  prophet. — "  Bring  no 
more  vain  oblations  ;  incense  is  abomination  unto  me  ; 
the  new  moons  and  sabbaths,  the  calling  o'  assemblies, 

1  cannot  away  with  ;  it  is  iniquity,  even  the  solemn 
meeting.  Your  new  moons,  and  youT  appointed 
feasts,  my  soul  hateth. — They  are  a  troub  e  unto  me  ; 
1  am  weary  to  bear  them."t 


*  Isai.  i.  2 — 5. 

t  Isai.  i.  13.  It  would  be  superfluous  to  refer  the  diligent  reader 
of  the  Bible  to  the  many  passages  in  this  prophet  which  are  pertinent 
to  our  present  argument.  If  there  are  any  who,  while  indulging 
unfavourable  impressions  of  the  religion  of  the  Scriptures;  have  never 
bestowed  serious  attention  upon  the  evidence  whence  alone  a  rational 
opinion  can  be  drawn,  and  if  this  note  should  meet  the  eye  of  any 
such  person,  the  author  recommends  him,  after  informing  himself 
competently  of  the  moral  and  religious  condition  of  the  European 
and  Asiatic  nations  in  the  Homeric  and  succeeding  age,  and  after 
dismissing  from  the  mind  every  prepossession,  and  every  modern 
association  of  ideas,  to  read,  and  to  read  continuously,  the  prophecy 
of  Isaiah,  and  to  note  as  he  goes  along,  whatever  bears  upon  the  fol- 
lowing capital  points,  namely : — 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


201 


We  might  pause  here,  and  after  resigning  (for  a 
moment)  all  those  claims  on  behalf  of  the  sacred  vol- 
ume which  do  in  fact  overrule  the  question,  demand, 
from  competent  and  dispassionate  minds,  a  reply  on 
this  simple  historic  point — Is  the  ancient  Hebrew  lit- 
erature liable  to  the  charge  of  cherishing  national  ar- 
rogance and  religious  rancour,  or  does  it  not  rather 
provide  against,  and  repress,  and  reprove  the  risings 
of  any  such  odious  temper? — Does  it  appear  that 
Jewish  fanaticism  drew  its  authority  from  the  pro- 
phets 1  Or  another,  and  a  parallel  question  might  be 
put — Do  the  prophets — in  that  style  of  which  church 
history  and  later  religious  literature  furnish  ten  thou- 
sand examples — exalt  the  importance  of  religious  ser- 
vices and  ceremonies,  to  the  disparagement  of  morals  ? 
Fanaticism,  as  we  well  know,  takes  its  rise  in  the  hot- 
bed of  this  very  corruption.  Is  this  then  the  fault  that 
attaches  to  the  canonical  writings  of  the  Jews  ?  Let 
the  passage  quoted  just  above,  in  which  indignant  re- 
probation is  cast  upon  even  the  divinely  appointed  ser- 
vices of  national  religion,  when  deformed  as  they 
were  at  that  time  by  hypocrisy,  be  read  in  connexion 
with  the  verses  that  immediately  follow : — "  Wash 
you,  make  you  clean,  put  away  the  evil  of  your  doings 
from  before  mine  eyes :  cease  to  do  evil ;  learn  to  do 
well ;  seek  judgment ;  relieve  the  oppressed ;  judge 


1.  The  unity,  majesty,  creative  power,  providential  sway,  justice, 
and  placability  of  God. 

2.  The  prime  articles  of  morality — ^justice,  temperance,  mercy,  and 
kindness  toward  the  weak  and  oppressed. 

3.  The  demerits  and  disgrace  of  the  Jewish  people  j  and  the 
grounds  of  the  favour  nevertheless  shewn  them  by  God. 

4.  The  anticipations  and  promises  which  relate  to  the  world  at 
large,  and  to  an  era  of  universal  peace. 

5.  The  negative,  but  immensely  important  merit  which  belongs  to 
this  writer,  of  abstaining  from  all  ascetic,  superstitious,  or  extrava* 
gant  religious  excitements. 

Let  it  then  be  inquired  if  a  book,  having  these  distinctions,  and 
produced  when  and  where  it  was,  does  not  proclaim  beyond  a  doubt 
its  own  divinity. 


2^2 


RELIGION   OF   THE   BIBLE 


the  fatherless ;  plead  for  the  widow."*  These  Tig- 
orous  expressions  seem  intended,  if  one  nnight  so 
speak,  to  burn  and  scorch  the  very  germs  of  spiritual 
pride,  hypocrisy,  and  hatred  out  of  the  Jewish  mind. — 
Certainly  our  conclusion  gathers  strength — That  the 
Hebrew  Scriptures  are  not  Fanatical. 

But  inasmiich  as  it  may  have  appeared,  while 
traversing  the  ground  we  have  lately  passed  over, 
as  if  every  possible  variety  of  fanaticism  found  its  ex- 
ample somewhere  among  the  extravagances  exhibited 
by  the  Jewish  people  of  a  later  age,  and  as  if  the  fa- 
naticism of  Papal  Christianity,  and  of  Mohammedism 
too,  were  but  another  fashion  of  that  which  had  its 
parentage  with  the  Jew,  it  becomes  especially  neces- 
sary to  demonstrate  that  this  bad  spirit  did  not  dr^iw 
its  origin  from  the  early  and  authentic  books  of  that 
people,  but,  on  the  contrary,  received  from  them  every 
imaginable  check. 

Already,  even  in  the  age  of  Isaiah,  the  people^ 
though  not  yet  fanatics,  had  learned,  it  seems,  to  court 
delusion,  and  to  bend  their  ear  to  religious  flattrries. 
They  "  said  to  the  seers,  see  not,  and  to  the  prophets, 
prophesy  not  unto  us  right  thjngs:  speck  unto  us 
smooth  things,  prophesy  deceits."f  Yet  this  infatu- 
ated preference  of  lying  oracles  to  the  true,  wus  not 
only  rebuked  at  the  moment,  but  the  existence  of  so 
grevious  a  folly,  in  a  people  more  highly  favoured  than 
any  other,  was  to  be  recorded,  and  handed  down  as  a 
warning  to  all  future  times.  "Now  go ;  write  it  Ljfore 
them  in  a  table,  and  note  it  in  a  book,  that  it  may  htfcn^ 
the  time  to  come,  for  ever  and  ever — That  this  is  a  re- 
bellious people,  lying  children,  children  that  will  not 
hear  the  law  of  the  Lord."  J  And  we  should  observe, 
that  if  the  vehement  rebuke  itself  be  remarkable,  the 
transmission  and  preservation  of  it  by  the  very  parties 
against  whom  it  was  launched,  as  a  perpetual  reproach, 
yes,  a  reproach  that  was  to  vex  the  ear  of  er.ch  suc- 
cessive generation  "  for  ever,"  is  a  still  more  striking 
*  Isai.  i.  16.  t  Isai.  xxx.  10.  |  Isai.  xxx.  S. 


NOT    FANATICAL* 


293 


fact.  Why  was  not  a  passage,  such  as  the  above, 
silently  dropped  from  the  text  by  the  scribes  of  a  later 
age  ? — Why,  but  because  within  the  solitary  circle  of 
Jewish  history  nothing  happens  in  mere  conformity 
w  ith  the  ordinary  impulses  of  human  nature,  but  every 
thing  indicates  the  immediate  presence  of  a  controlling 
power  "  not  of  men." 

The  latter  and  more  consolatory  portions  of  Isaiah's 
prophecy  are  (on  another  account)  as  remarkable  as 
the  earlier,  and  the  more  stern  portion.  In  these  no 
one  can  fail  to  notice  the  care  with  which  the  stirrinsr 
hopes  of  the  Israelitish  people  are  severed  from  emo- 
tions of  arrogance,  and  are  connected  with  the  spirit 
of  humiliation,  and  with  the  remembrance  of  past 
offences.  "  Comfort  ye,  comfort  ye  my  people,  saitli 
your  God. — Speak  ye  comfortably  to  Jerusalem,  and 
cry  unto  her,  that  her  warfare  is  accomplished,  that 
her  iniquity  is  pardoned  ;  for  she  hath  received  of  the 
Lord's  hand  double  for  all  her  sins." — "  I,  even  I  am 
He  that  blotteth  out  thy  transgressions,  for  mine  own 
sake,  and  will  not  remember  thy  sins."*  That  fre- 
quent  theme — the  singular  obduracy  of  the  national 
character,  comes  up  wherever  promises  of  restoration 
and  triumph  are  to  be  afforded.  *'  I  knew  that  thou 
art  obstinate,  and  thy  neck  an  iron  sinew,  and  thy  brow 
brass:" — "thou  wast  called  a  transgressor  from  the 
womb." — "  O  that  thou  hadst  hearkened  to  my  com- 
mandments !  then  had  thy  peace  been  as  a  river,  and 
thy  righteousness  as  the  waves  of  the  sea  !"f 

The  task  of  the  prophets,  as  we  have  observed,  was 
that  almost  always,  of  reproof  and  denunciation.  But 
according  to  the  principles  of  human  nature  this  is  a 
part,  which,  when  it  comes  to  be  the  chief  business  of 
a  man's  life,  tends  strongly  to  overcloud  his  spirit,  and 
to  embitter  his  temper;  the  more  so  when  he  has  to 
deal  with  great  affairs,  and  with  men  of  high  station-^ 
when  he  has  to  denounce  national  deliquencies — to 


*  Isai.  zi.  I,  2. 


26* 


t  Isai.  xlviii.  7,  18. 


294 


RELIGION   OP   THE   BIBLE 


arraign  the  noble,  and  to  challenge  even  kings  to  nn* 
swer  for  their  faults.  Let  any  one  imagine  himself  to 
have  received  a  commission  of  this  sort,  and  that  it 
were  his  office  to  chastise  his  country,  and  its  rulers, 
year  after  year,  with  the  fiery  scourge  of  his  lips.— 
What  probably  would  be  his  temper— what  the  tone 
of  his  arrogance— what  his  self-sufficiency,  and  what 
that  rancour  which  the  contumacy  of  the  common 
people,  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  persecutions  of  the 
great  on  the  other  would,  after  a  while,  impart  to  his 
soul?  Scarcely  any  instance  of  a  sort  like  this,  can 
be  found  within  the  range  of  modern  history,  that  does 
not  declare  the  extreme  difficulty  of  avoiding  sour  or 
fanatical  virulence,  when  the  office  of  public  reprover 
has  to  be  discharged.  Yet  it  was  precisely  in  a  posi- 
tion of  this  kind  that  the  melancholic  priest  of  Ana- 
thoth,  Jeremiah,  stood,  and  stood  alone,  during  the 
lapse  of  forty  dismal  years.  Isaiah,  his  predecessor, 
had  seen  the  evil  afar  off;— but  Jeremiah  actually 
waded  through  the  troubled  waters  of  national  corrup- 
tion, and  desolation.  Tumult,  contumacy,  injurious 
treatment,  public  ruin,  and  personal  distresses,  follow- 
ed him  from  the  commencement  to  the  close  of  his 
career.  Even  if  there  be  no  room  to  expect,  in  the 
pages  of  one  like  Jeremiah,  the  indications  of  a  wish 
to  flatter  the  spiritual  pride  of  the  people,  may  we  not 
confidently  look  there  for  the  symptoms  of  that  per- 
sonal FANATICISM — that  malign  acerbity,  which  or- 
dinarily belongs  to  the  character  of  a  public  accuser  ' 
Any  such  natural  anticipations  will  be  falsified  ;  for 
if  there  be  any  one  portion  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures 
that  peculiarly  breathes  a  tender  and  plaintive  spirit,  it 
is  the  prophecy  of  Jeremiah.  In  reading  it  we  see  and 
hear  the  injured  man  of  grief  bewailing  the  miseries 
of  his  country,  as  well  as  his  own  misfortunes.  *'  Oh 
that  my  head  were  waters,  and  my  eyes  a  fountain  of 
tears,  that  I  might  weep  day  and  night  for  the  slain  of 
the  daughter  of  my  people  !"*     This  is  not  the  mood 

♦  Jer.  ix.  i. 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


295 


of  the  murky  fanatic,  who  seeks  to  avenge  the  slights 
he  has  personally  received  from  his  countrymen,  by 
exulting  over  public  calamities.  At  the  moment  when 
murderously  set  upon  by  the  men  of  his  native  town, 
the  prophet  passionately  appeals  to  the  divine  protec- 
tion,* and  receives  a  message  of  wrath  for  his  perse- 
cutors ;  but  plainly  he  is  not  to  be  deemed  vindictive 
in  so  doing,  until  the  reality  of  his  commission  has  been 
disproved.  No  native  asperity  of  temper  made  the 
work  of  threatening  agreeable  to  him.  Witness  his 
exclamation — "  Woe  is  me,  my  mother,  that  thou  hast 
borne  me  a  man  of  strife,  and  a  man  of  contention,  to 
the  whole  earth  !"t  That  his  disposition  was  timid 
and  mistrustful,  much  more  than  pugnacious,  is  evident; 
and,  as  is  quite  natural  to  such  a  temper,  when  en- 
circled by  formidable  adversaries,  he  eagerly  implores 
aid  from  heaven,  whence  alone  he  could  hope  for  deliv- 
erance. But  it  is  otherwise  with  the  fanatic,  who,  in 
^moments  of  excitement  and  danger,  almost  always 
shows  the  greater  daring ;  nor  will  he  even  affect  to 
say — "  I  have  not  desired  the  woeful  day — O  Lord 
thou  knowest : — that  which  came  out  of  my  lips  was 
right  before  thee. — Be  not  a  terror  unto  me,  thou  art 
my  hope  in  the  day  of  evil."J  There  are  no  charac-^ 
teristic  distinctions  to  be  relied  upon  at  all  among  the 
passions,  if  we  may  not  safely  discriminate  between 
the  vehement  strivings  of  an  oppressed  and  tender 
spirit,  and  the  virulent  moodiness  of  the  religious  mis- 
anthrope.— The  one  bewails  its  own  misfortunes  as 
thus — "  Wherefore  came  I  forth  of  the  womb  to  see 
labour  and  sorrow,  that  my  days  should  be  consumed 
with  shame  :"§  —  the  other  ruminates  revenge,  and 
cheers  himself  in  the  prospect  of  it. 

There  is  found  a  courage,  the  fruit  of  virtue,  in  in- 
stances where  the  native  courage  of  temperament  is 
quite  wanting.  A  firmness  of  the  former  sort  was 
displayed  by  the  prophet  when  at  length,  after  many 

*  Jer.  xi.  20.    f  Jer.  xv.  10.    |  Jer.  xvii.  16.    §  Jer.  xx.  IS. 


296 


RELIGION   OF   THE   BIBLE 


menaces  from  the  rulers,  he  was  arraigned  as  a  traitof, 
and  stood  in  immediate  peril  of  death.*  The  con- 
stancy he  displays  on  this  occasion  brings  together 
meekness  and  resolution  in  genuine  combination. — 
**As  for  me,  behold  I  am  in  your  hand  ;  do  with  me 
as  seemeth  good  and  meet  unto  you.  But  know  ye 
for  certain,  that  if  ye  put  me  to  death,  ye  shall 
surely  bring  innocent  blood  upon  yourselves,  and  upon 
this  city,  and  upon  the  inhabitants  thereof:  for  of  a 
truth  the  Lord  hath  sent  me  unto  you,  to  speak  all 
these  words  in  your  ears." 

But  if  we  wanted  a  searching  test,  by  means  of 
which  to  determine  the  question  of  a  man's  temper, 
we  might  well  find  it  in  such  a  particular  as  this — 
namelv,  that  w^hile  a  self-commissioned  and  fanatical 
reprover  holds  back  whatever  might  seem  emollient  or 
consolatory,  and  is  really  unable  to  strike  any  chord 
that  is  not  harsh — the  true  messenger  of  heaven,  on 
the  contrary,  shews  whence  he  has  received  his  in- 
structions  by  frequently  reverting  (and  with  a  natliral 
ease)  to  bring  hopes  and  mild  persuasives.  Now  this 
characteristic  especially  belongs  to  Jeremiah.  The 
instances  are  verv  numerous  in  w^hich,  even  with  the 
heaviest  denunciations  on  his  lips,  he  mingles  the  most 
cheering  predictions,  and  the  tenderest  advices. 
''  Therefore  fear  thou  not,  O  my  servant  Jacob,  saith 
the  Lord,  neither  be  dismayed,  O  Israel,  for  lo,  I  will 
save  thee  from  afar,  and  thv  seed  from  the  land  of 
their  captivity.  And  Jacob  shall  return,  and  shall  be 
in  rest,  and  be  quiet,  and  none  shall  make  him  afraid." 
— "And  out  of  (his  r^ained  palaces)  shall  proceed 
thanksgiving,  and  the  voices  of  them  that  make 
merry.^-f 

To  announce  wrath,  which  makes  the  sad  burden 
of  the  true  servant  of  the  Lord,  is  the  spontaneous 
task  of  the  genuine  fanatic  ;  and  because  it  is  the  task 
he  has  chosen,  he  refuses  to  take  up  any  other  theme. 


*  Jer.  xxvi.  10. 


t  Jer.  xlvi.  27,  28. 


NOT    FANATICAL. 


297 


On  this  principle  we  do  not  hesitate  to  conclude  that 
the  Jewish  prophets,  though  from  age  to  age  the  mes- 
sengers of  divine  displeasure,  were  incited  by  no 
malignant  impulse :  and  the  criterion  is,  that  not  one 
of  them,  even  the  most  lugubrious,  fails  to  brighten 
his  scroll  of  woe  with  frequent  words  of  mercy,  and 
many  sparkles  of  distant  hope. 

EzEKiEL,  like  Jeremiah,  and  his  predecessors,  opens 
his  ministry  with  language  of  disparagement  towards 
the  people  to  whom  he  is  sent : — it  was  *'  a  rebellious 
nation  ;— they  and  their  fathers  ; — impudent  children 
and  stilf-hearted  ;— they    are  a  rebellious    house."* 
Before   this  contumacious   people   was  the   prophet 
enjoined  to  spread  "  a  roll  of  a  book,  written  within  and 
without  with  lamentations,  and  mourning,  and  woe."  But 
if  such  be  the  pervading  colour  of  Ezekiel"s  prophecy, 
as  of  others,  this  like  others,    recommends   itself  as 
indeed  a  divine  message,  by  its  firm  and  very  copious 
assertion  of  the  great  principles  of  virtue  and  piety. 
The  prophet's  forehead  was  "  made  as  adamant,  and 
harder  than  flint,"  to  oppose  the  impudent  rebellion  of 
the  people  ;  but  it  was  still  "  to  warn  the  wicked  to 
turn  from  his  wickedness,  and  live."     And  we  find 
too  here,  the  same  frequent  admixture   of   gracious 
promises,  and  bright  anticipations,  with  heavier  mat- 
ters.    "  I  will  even  gather  you  from  the  people,  and 
assemble  you  out  of  the  countries  where  ye  have  been 
scattered  ;  and  I  will  give   you  the   land  of  Israel. 
And  I  will  give  you  one  heart ;  and  I  will  put  a  new 
spirit  within  you  ;  and  I  will  take  the  stony  heart  out 
of  vour  flesh,'  and  will  give  you  a  heart  of  flesh,  that 
ye  may  walk  in  my  statutes,  and  keep  my  ordinances, 
and  do  them  ;  and  they  shall  be  my  people ;  and  I 
will  be  their  God."t     This  is  encouragement  without 
flattery  ;  and  hope,  bursting  through  the  black  clouds 
of  divine  indignation. 

*  Ezek.  ii.  3,  4,  10.    f  Ezek.  xi.  16—20,  and  xxxvi.  20,  to  the  end. 


298 


BELIOION   OF   THE   BIBLE 


We  find  in  Ezekiel  *  significant  allusions  to  the 
existence,  in  his  time,  of  sanctimoniousness  and  hypoc- 
risy—vices   that  distinguish    the   mature  age  of   a 
national  religion ;  but  yet  there  are  no  indications  of 
the  rise  of  that  peculiar  temper  which,  a  few  centuries 
later,  became  characteristic  of  the  race.     Nor  indeed 
does  any  evidence  present  itself  which  might  so  be 
understood,  until  some  time  after  the  closing  of  the 
sacred  canon.     Had  the  spirit  of  fanaticism  actually 
come  abroad  among  the  Jewish  people  in  the  age  we 
are  now  speaking  of,  some  indirect  proof  of  th^  fact 
would  infallibly  have  made  itself  apparent  in  those 
various  writings  that  contain,  or  refer  to  the  national 
sentiments,  during,  and  after  the  captivity.— It  was  in 
Babylon,  vexed,  afllicted,  humiliated,  and  yet  conscious 
of  a  dignity  far  superior  to  what  could  be  boasted  bv 
the  lordly  oppressor,  that  the  Jew  would  naturally  (If 
it  had  indeed  become  his  mood)  have  given  vent  to 
the  rankling  pride  of  his  bosom.     Or  it  was  while 
toiling,  sword  in  Land,  amid  the  ruins  of  the  holy  city 
— beset  by  jealous  foes,  scorned,  dependant  for  pro- 
tection   upon    an    idolatrous  government,  and    now 
thorouc^hly  disenchanted   of  the   ancient  polytheistic 
propensity— it  was  then,  and  under  circumstances  of 
such  extraordinary  excitement,  that  the  sons  of  Abra- 
ham— friend  of  God,  might  be  expected  to  swell  and 
pant  with  the  gloomy  and  vindictive   arrogance  of 
spiritual  conceit.     Yet  we  do  not  find  that  such  was 
the   fact.      The    strong   corrective    influence   of  the 
sacred  writings,  as  well  as  of  the  extant  prophetic 
function,  held,  it  seems,  the  fanatical  tendency  effect- 
ually in  check. 

Fairly  considered,  in  this  specific  point  of  view,  the 
solemn  confession  of  national  disgraces  and  delinquen- 
cies, uttered  by  Daniel,  while  the  heavy  foot  of  the 
Median  king  was  yet  on  the  neck  of  the  people,  ought 

*  Ezek.  sxxiii.  31. 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


299 


to  be  taken  as  presumptive  evidence  that  no  rancorous 
national  fanaticism — the  usual  product  of  grievous 
sufferings  in  minds  conscious  of  religious  nobility,  had 
then  sprung  up,  nor  belonged  to  the  Jew  of  the  Cap- 
tivity. Proof  of  the  same  kind,  in  part  negative,  in 
part  positive,  may  be  drawn  from  the  manner  and 
spirit  of  the  prophets  who  closed  the  sacred  canon. 
Haggai,  for  example,  reproves,  humiliates,  and 
encourages  the  people ;  but  neither  does  he  himself 
excite,  nor  does  he  even  allude  to  the  existence  of 
that  peculiar  temper,  the  origin  of  which  we  are  in 
quest  of:  the  virulence  of  national  religious  malig- 
nancy is  not  as  yet  discoverable.  Zechariah  is 
consolatory,  and  labours  to  exhilarate  the  people ; 
nevertheless  he  sternly  insists  on  the  great  matters  of 
justice  and  mercy. — "  Execute  true  judgment,"  says 
he,  "  and  shew  mercy  and  compassions,  every  man  to 
his  brother;  and  oppress  not  the  widow,  nor  the 
fatherless,  the  stranger  r:t»  ^he  poor;  and  let  none  of 
you  imagine  evil  agains*  iii ;  brother  in  your  h^^art."* 
This  prophet  then,  w^e  "'n elude,  was  no  fanatic;  for 
it  is  the  special  charact^  istic  of  such  to  set  light  by 
the  simple  trutlis  of  morality,  while  religious  preten- 
sions are  blown  up,  and  held  on  high.  Nor  does  it 
appear  as  if  the  Jews  of  his  time  were  fanatical ;  for 
although  grievous  faults  of  almost  all  kinds,  are 
charged  upon  them,  no  allusion  whatever  is  made, 
§uch  as  suggests  the  belief  that  this  species  of  extrav- 
agance had  then  shew^ed  itself. 

Ezra  and  Nehemiah — priest  and  prince  stand  on 
the  page  of  history  as  noble  examples  of  religious  and 
national  constancy,  and  of  zeal  for  an  institute,  without 
perceptible  taint  of  fanatical  virulence.  Their  conduct 
and  expressions  are  quite  becoming  to  men  who,  being 
themselves  accountable  to  a  very  jealous  foreign  power, 
and  spitefully  watched  and  hemmed  in  by  the  lawless 
hordes  that  ravaged  the  country,  had  to  discharge  the 


*  Ezek.  vii.  9. 10.  viii.  16,  17. 


300 


RELIGION   OF   THE   BIBLE 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


30i- 


Ifi. 


difficult  part  of  restoring  a  long  desolated  land,  of 
reinstating  a  fallen  polity,  and  of  correcting  inveterate 
abuses.  So  far  as  we  may  safely  gather  indirect 
evidence  from  materials  so  brief  and  scanty,  these  two 
Chiefs  might,  if  brought  into  comparison  with  any  men 
who  have  been  placed  in  similar  circumstances,  chal- 
lenge high  praise  for  patriotism,  courage,  and  modera- 
tion. Ezra  and  Nehemiah,  we  say,  would  have  been 
heroes  in  the  world's  esteem^f  they  had  not  been 
Bible  heroes.  We  should  not  neglect  to  take  into 
our  account  the  copious  and  eloquent  historical  con- 
fession, uttered  in  face  of  the  assembled  people  by 
their  leaders,  after  a  pubHc  reading  of  the  Law.* 
The  introductory  phrase  is  especially  pertinent  to  our 
subject. — "  And  the  seed  of  Israel  separated  them- 
selves from  all  strangers"  (not  haughtily  to  exult  in 
their  distinctions,  nor  to  recount  the  early  glories  of 
their  now  fallen  state,  but)  "  to  confess  their  sins 

AND   THE    INIQUITIES  OF    THEIR   FATHERS."       No  siuglc 

excitement  of  fanaticism — no  trace  of  it,  is  to  be  found 
in  these  closing  memorials  of  canonical  Jewish  history. 
— Let  the  reader,  if  yet  he  doubts,  search  and  see. 

In  the  hasty,  yet  not  incautious,  review  we  have 
taken  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  we  have  assumed 
nothing  in  their  behalf;  but  have  judged  of  them  pre- 
cisely as  we  should  of  the  ancient  literature  of  any 
other  people.  The  issue  of  our  scrutiny  is  a  double 
conclusion,  ^r5^  that  these  writings  do  not  encourage 
the  spirit  and  feeling  which  the  consciousness  of 
i-eligious  privileges  often  engenders ;  but  rather  (and 
in  a  very  remarkable  manner)  bear  with  all  their 
stress  against  the  rise  of  such  emotions  ;  and  secondly^ 
that  while  they  afford  abundant  evidence  (evidence 
given  without  reserve)  of  the  prevalence  of  almost 
every  immorality  and  disorder  among  the  people,  no 
indication  is  contained  in  them  of  the  existence  of  that 
national  fanaticism  which,  in  the  Roman  age,  raged 
in  Judea  so  vehemently. 

♦  Neb.  ix. 


But  there  yet  remains  a  point  or  two  that  must  be 
noticed. — It  has  appeared  that  the  arrogance  of  the 
Jewish  people  was  not  fomented,  but  repressed  by 
Moses,  and  by  the  poets  and  prophets  of  succeeding 
times. — This  however  is  a  half  only  of  the  evidence 
that  bears  upon  our  argument,  for  it  can  be  proved 
that  a  kindly  sentiment  towards  the  human  family  at 
large  was  pointedly  enjoined  by  the  same  authorities. 
Separation,  it  is  true,  was  the  fundamental  principle 
of  the  Jewish  polity ; — but  then  it  was  separation  on 
the  ground  only  of  those  corruptions  and  enormities 
that  prevailed  in  the  surrounding  countries.  The  sole 
object  or  intention  of  the  national  seclusion  was  to 
preserve  in  the  world  the  prime  elements  of  morals 
and  religion.  And  to  secure  this  intention,  and  to  se- 
cure it  in  the  actual  condition  of  mankind  at  the  time, 
an  extraordinary  line  of  policy,  in  particular  cases,  as 
well  as  unique  institutions,  both  civil  and  religious, 
were  indispensable.  This  chosen  race  of  true  wor- 
shippers must  needs  assume  a  front  of  defiance  and  of 
universal  reprobation,  planted,  as  it  was,  on  the  con- 
fines of  mighty  and  splendid  idolatries.  But  then  the 
reprobation  had  regard  to  nothing  but  the  errors  and 
the  horrid  vices  of  idolatry ;  consequently  it  was  al- 
ways true  that,  whoever  among  the  nations  afar  off 
or  near,  would  renounce  his  delusions,  and  *'  cleave 
unto  the  God  of  Israel,"  was  welcomed  to  the  bosom 
of  the  state.  Thus  the  light  of  genuine  religion  was 
diffused,  as  much  as  conserved,  by  the  Mosaic  institu- 
tions ;  and  explicit  provision  was  made  for  the  unlim- 
ited extension  of  the  benefits  they  conferred. 

During  the  purer  age  of  the  Israelitish  state  it  is 
manifest  that  the  propagation  of  true  religion  was  an 
object  of  the  fond  desires  and  prayers  of  the  pious. 
— ^The  people  were  instructed  to  connect  their  own 
prosperity  with  the  welfare  of  the  world.  Yes — little 
as  we  may  perhaps  have  heeded  the  fact,  it  is  certain 
that  expressions  of  the  most  expansive  philanthropy 
echoed  in  the  anthems  of  the  Jewish  temple  worship  ! 

27 


802 


nELIGION   OF   THE   BIBLE 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


303 


I' 


The  passages  challenge  attention. — "  God  be  merciful 
unto  us,  and  bless  us,  and  cause  his  face  to  shine  upon 
us. — That  thy  way  may  be  known  upon  earth,  thy  sav- 
ing health  among  all  nations. — Let  the  people  (the  na- 
tions) praise  thee,  O  God ;  let  all  the  people  praise 
thee.  O  let  the  nations  be  glad  and  sing  for  joy  ; 
for  thou  shalt  judge  (preside  over)  the  people  right- 
eously, and  govern  the  nations  upon  earth.  Let  the 
people  praise  thee,  O  God  ;  let  all  the  people  praise 
thee.  Then  shall  the  earth  yield  her  increase,  and 
God,  EVEN  OUR  OWN  Goi),  shall  bless  us  : — God  shall 
bless  us,  and  all  the  ends  of  the  earth  shall  fear  him.* 
Noble  utterance  this,  of  piety  and  universal  good-will  1 
and  how  utterly  unlike  to  that  grudging  temper  which 
had  taken  firm  hold  of  the  Jewish  mind  in  the  time  of 
its  reprobation. 

While  fixing  the  eye  upon  the  heights  of  the  south- 
ern Syria  in  the  age  of  Titus,  who  must  not  be  amazed 
at  the  singular  spectacle  of  a  petty  tribe,  having  its 
face  sternly  set  against  all  nations,  so  as  justly  to  be 
styled — "haters  of  mankind."  And  yet — marvellous 
are  the  revolutions  of  national  character,  this  same 
region,  and  its  sacred  capital,  a  few  centuries  before, 
was  the  only  spot  on  all  the  globe  (as  far  as  history  in- 
forms us)  where  public  worship  ennobled  itself  by  the 
language  of  universal  good-will  to  man  ! 

Never  is  it  found  that  fanaticism  indulges  bright  and 
unrestricted  hopes  in  favour  of  the  bulk  of  mankind. 
— Certainly  it  is  not  fanaticism  that  says — "  All  nations 
whom  thou  hast  made  shall  come  and  worship  before 
thee,  O  Lord,  and  shall  glorify  thy  name,"t  It  is  not 
fanaticism  that,  in  the  moment  of  national  exultation, 
challenges  all  men  to  partake  with  itself  its  choicest 
honours.  Yet  such  was  actually  the  style  of  the  songs 
that  resounded,  sabbath  after  sabbath,  from  the  conse- 
crated palaces  of  Zion.  "  O  sing  unto  the  Lord  a 
new  song ; — sing  unto  the  Lord,  all  the  earth.     De- 


clare his  glory  among  the  heathen,  his  wonders  among 
all  people. — Give  unto  the  Lord,  O  ye  kindreds  of  the 
people,  give  unto  the  Lord  glory  and  strength.  Give 
unto  the  Lord  the  glory  due  unto  his  name.  Bring  an 
offering  and  come  into  his  courts.  O  worship  the 
Lord  in  the  beauty  of  holiness  (Jerusalem)  fear  before 
him  all  the  earth."*  We  ask  now,  Is  it  fair  to  say  that 
the  pristine  religion  of  the  Jews  was  dark,  churlish,  or 
misanthropic  ?  "  O  praise  the  Lord,  all  ye  nations, 
praise  him,  all  ye  people."t  Such  was  that  Judaism 
(as  God  made  it)  of  which  the  Gospel  gave  only  a 
new  interpretation  !  But  the  degraded  Jew  of  the 
era  of  the  Gospel  had  so  perverted  the  faith  of  his  an- 
cestors, that  when  Christianity  came  in  at  length  to 
give  effect  to  the  devout  desires  of  the  ancient  church, 
he  gnawed  his  tongue  in  very  spite. — Let  us  then  at- 
tribute the  later  bad  spirit  strictly  to  the  men  in  whom 
it  is  found ;  and  do  justice,  as  well  to  the  primitive 
doctrine  of  this  extraordinary  people,  as  to  the  brighter 
system  which  sprung  out  of  it. 

Not  only  did  several  explicit  enactments  secure  per- 
mission to  aliens  to  take  their  part  in  the  sacred  Mo- 
saic rites — even  the  most  peculiar  of  them,  but  innu- 
merable passages  of  the  Pentateuch  and  of  the  pro- 
phets, assert,  very  solemnly,  the  rights  of  the  stranger, 
and  protect  his  welfare,  along  always  with  the  widow 
and  the  fatherless. — "  The  Stranger,  the  widow,  and 
the  fatherless,"  were  to  be  cared  for  and  cherished,  as 
an  indispensable  condition  of  the  Divine  favour  to  the 
nation.  "  Take  heed  that  you  oppress  not  the  stran- 
ger, for  thou  wast  a  stranger  in  the  land  of  Egypt." 
The  Mosaic  law,  if  actually  scclusive,  and  if  in  one 
sense  stern,  was  benign  also,  as  well  as  just.  In  truth 
the  Israelitish  Law  stands  absolutely  alone  among  the 
various  documents  of  antiquity,  as  an  efficient  Protec- 
tor of  the  feeble  and  destitute,  against  the  strong — of 
the  poor  against  the  rich.     Nothing,  in  the  eye  of  this 


♦  Pealm  Ixvii. 


t  Pealm  IxixvL  9. 


Psalm  xcvi. 


t  Psalm  cxviL 


304 


RELIGION    OF    THE    BIBLE 


law,  made  men  abominable — but  vice  : — it  authenti- 
cated no  sanctity  apart  from  the  practice  of  justice 
and  mercy. — What  more  can  we  wish  for  or  think  of 
in  a  code  that  professes  to  come  from  Heaven  ? 

The  prophets  as  they  rose,  vigorously  maintained 
the  Mosaic  provisions  in  favour  of  the  alien.  For 
example — "  Let  not  the  son  of  the  stranger  that  hath 
joined  himself  to  the  Lord,  speak  saying — The  Lord 
hath  utterly  separated  me  from  his  people. — The  sons 
of  the  stranger  (i.  e.  all  men  without  distinction,  not 
of  the  Abrahamic  race)  that  join  themselves  to  the 
Lord,  to  serve  him,  and  to  love  the  name  of  the  Lord, 
to  be  his  servants,  every  one  that  keepeth  the  sabbath 
from  polluting  it,  and  taketh  hold  of  my  covenant ; — 
even  them  will  I  bring  to  my  holy  mountain,  and 
make  them  joyful  in  my  house  of  prayer :  their  burnt 
offerings  and  their  sacrifices  shall  be  accepted  upon 
mine  altar ;  for  my  house  shall  be  called  a  house  of 
prayer  for  all  people."*  The  conversion  of  the 
Gentiles  to  the  true  religion  is,  as  every  reader  of  the 
Bible  knows,  a  very  frequent  theme  with  the  prophets ; 
and  when  combined,  as  we  find  it,  with  pungent  up-% 
braidmgs  of  the  chosen  race,  on  account  of  their  in- 
veterate obduracy,  must  be  held  to  constitute  the 
strongest  counteractive  influence  that  can  be  imagined 
against  spurious  and  repulsive  national  prejudices  in 
matters  of  religion. 

To  what  extent  during  the  lapse  of  many  centuries, 
the  Jewish  institutions  and  Sacred  Books  actually  dif- 
fused the  blessings  of  tnie  religion  among  the  sur- 
rounding nations  is  a  point  not  now  to  be  ascertained. 
Yet  evidence  is  not  wanting  in  support  of  the  suppo- 
sition that  the  influence  of  the  Hebrew  polity  and 
literature  spread,  in  some  directions,  very  far,  so  that 
the  splendour  of  Truth  which  fell  in  a  full  beam  upon 
Zion,  did  in  fact  radiate  on  all  sides,  and  was  "as  a, 
light  to  lighten  the  Gentiles,"  even  to  the  ends  of  the 

♦  Isai.  Ivi.  3,  6.  7, 


NOT   FANATICAL.. 


305 


earth.  Without  assuming  to  know  nK>re  than  history 
enables  us  to  speak  of,  we  may  safely  conjecture  that 
the  successive  captivities  of  the  two  portions  of  the 
Hebrew  race  subserved  this  benignant  intention,  and 
operated  to  scatter  the  elements  of  virtue  and  piety 
over  most  parts  of  the  eastern  world.  In  like  man- 
ner as  Christianity  was  at  first  diflfused  by  means  of 
persecution,  so,  probably,  had  Judaism  been  diffused, 
again  and  again,  by  the  conquest  and  desolation  of  its 
native  soil.  And  it  is  to  be  noted  that  those  who  thus 
went  forth — ^the  compulsory  missionaries  of  pure  the- 
ology, left  the  land  of  their  fathers  before  the  age 
when  the  proud  and  churlish  temper  which  after- 
wards made  their  name  odious  in  all  the  world,  had 
sprung  up.* 

But  we  have,  in  a  former  Section,  aflirmed,  that 
fanaticism  has  its  rise  either  in  a  gloomy  conception 
of  the  Divine  Nature,  or  in  a  belief  which  attributes 
the  immediate  and  sovereign  control  of  human  affairs 
to  malign  invisible  powers.  A  main  consideration 
then,  when  the  tendency  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures 
becomes  matter  of  inquiry,  is  the  representation  they 
make  (taken  in  mass)  of  the  character  of  Jehovah.  In 
addition  to  what  has  already  been  said  on  this  point 
some  special  circumstances  should  be  adverted  to. 

We  naturally  read  the  Old  Testament  in- the  light 
of  the  New.  Or,  in  reading  the  Old,  we  carry  with 
us  those  brighter  or  more  refined  elements  of  Theol- 
ogy to  which  the  Gospel  has  given  prominence  ;  and 

♦  A  more  than  curious  subject  of  inquiry  presents  itself  in  this 
direction  A  multitude  of  intimations,  scattered  over  the  remains  of 
ancient  literature,  supports  the  belief  that  the  Hebrew  theology  had 
a  very  extensive  influence  throughout  the  eastern  world— an  intlu- 
ence  reflected  faintly  upon  Greece,  in  furnishing  to  mankind  the  ele- 
ments of  piety.  The  two  books  of  Josephus  against  Anion  are 
available  as  aids  in  such  an  mquiry  ;  and  we  might  turn  also  with 
great  advantage  to  the  early  Christian  writers,  especially  those 
named  in  a  preceding  note  (p.  2G3),  who  supply  very  many  clews  fox 
extending  it  still  further.  The  results  of  such  an  investigation 
would  be  consolatory  on  more  grounds  than  one.  The  benehcenca 
of  Heaven  is  broader  than  we  often  suppose. 

27* 


306 


RELIGION   OF   THE    BIBLE 


then  we  measure  the  immature,  or  undeveloped  prin- 
ciples of  the  precursive  dispensation  by  the  standard 
of  the  later.  Yet  a  different  mode  of  procedure  is 
demanded  by  historic  justice  ; — for  plainly  we  ought 
to  form  our  conceptions  of  the  religious  system  given 
to  the  descendants  of  Abraham,  by  paying  attention 
to  the  position  in  which  it  stood  in  relation  to  the  sen- 
timents and  practices  of  the  nations  around  it,  during 
the  ages  of  its  destined  continuance. — Judaism,  such 
as  we  find  it  in  the  writings  of  Moses  and  the  Prophets, 
is  not  so  properly  thought  of  as  a  beam  of  light  from 
heaven,  shining  on  a  certain  spot  of  earth  ;  as  an  en- 
ergy of  resistance,  or  a  defensive  power,  maintaining, 
from  age  to  age,  a  difficult  position,  against  mighty 
assailants  on  all  sides.  Before  we  can  fairly  say  what 
was  Judaism — we  must  know — to  what  it  was  opposed 
— and  what  were  the  errors  it  kept  at  bay. 

Is  it  then  true  that  these  ancient  books  present  a 
stern  and  formidable  front  ?  Is  the  Divine  Majesty, 
as  spoken  of  by  the  Seers  of  Israel,  girt  about  with 
thick  clouds  of  the  sky,  and  do  thunderbolts  play 
around  the  footstool  of  his  throne  ?  Yes ;  but  what 
were  those  idolatrous  delusions  of  which  this  same 
awful  revelation  made  itself  the  antagonist?  Nothing 
less  horrible  than  the  murderous  superstitions  of  the 
Tyrians,  Sidonians,  Moabites,  Ammonians,  Egyptians, 
Philistines,  Babylonians.  These  were  the  adversaries 
of  Jehovah,  and  it  was  therefore  that  "a  fiery  tem- 
pest went  before  Him."  The  terrors  that  made  Sinai 
tremble  were  conservative  means — were  defensive 
weapons — were  necessary  and  benign  instruments, 
employed  to  expel  from  the  rude  minds  of  an  infant 
nation,  the  cruel  and  foul  belief  and  worship  of 
Moloch,  of  Dagon,  of  Baal,  of  Thammuz.  The  stern- 
ness of  Jehovah  should  then  be  thought  of  as  we 
regard  the  compassionate  vigour  of  a  Parent,  who 
strives,  at  all  costs,  to  rescue  his  children  from  some 
cruel  and  seductive  thraldom. 

Mere  justice,  such  as  the  principles  of  historic  in- 


ISOT  FANATICAL. 


307 


quiry  demand,  not  to  speak  of  religious  considerations, 
requires  that  we  should  read  the  Old  Testament  under 
this  recollection,  and  as  often  as  we  meet  with  that 
which,  to  our  acquired  notions,  seems  rigorous,  or  vin- 
dictive, we  are  bound  to  bear  in  mind  the  sanguinary 
temper,  and  the  detestable  usages  from  which  this 
same  rigour  was  to  preserve  the  tribes  of  Israel.  The 
lapse  of  four  and  thirty  centuries  permits  us  now  to 
descry  only  the  dim  forms  of  the  idolatory  that  had 
gained  its  acme  of  cruelty  among  the  nations  of  Canaan, 
and  the  surrounding  countries,  when  Moses  led  his 
people  into  the  Arabian  deserts.  But  the  more  indus- 
triously we  pursue  the  faint  indications  of  antiquity, 
the  more  clearly  do  we  discern  the  reason  and  fitness 
and  necessity  of  what,  in  the  Jewish  history  alarms 
our  modern  notions  of  the  Divine  Nature. 

And  yet  let  it  be  distinctly  understood  what  the 
real  character  of  that  severity  was  which  distinguishes 
the  ancient  Jewish  theology  ?  Jehovah,  was  He  terri- 
ble ?  Yes,  but  to  whom  ?— To  none  but  the  corrupt, 
the  unjust,  the  rapacious,  the  impure.  Toward  the 
faithful  and  the  obedient,  toward  the  penitent  and  the 
upright,  He  was  "  full  of  compassion,  and  gracious, 
slow  to  anger,  ready  to  forgive ; — a  God  pardoning 
iniquity,  and  passing  by  the  transgression  of  his  heri- 
tage." The  memory  of  every  one  conversant  with 
the  Scriptures  is  fraught  with  passages  of  similar 
import ;  and  it  might  even  be  affirmed  that,  although, 
in  the  New  Testament,  the  way  of  access  to  the  Divine 
favour  is  set  open  in  a  manner  of  which  the  Old  Testa- 
ment knows  little,  nevertheless,  if  we  are  in  quest  of 
abstract  affirmations  of  the  placability  and  tenderness 
of  God  toward  man,  or  if  we  want  atiecting  instances 
of  Divine  condescension,  we  shall  find  such  passages 
in  greater  abundance  in  the  Old  Testament  than  in 
the  New. — Moreover  (and  this  fact  should  never  be 
forgotten)  a  great  and  leading  purpose  of  the  ancient 
dispensation  was  to  protect  the  human  mind  from  the 
slavish  terror,  so  natural  to  it,  of  those  subordinate 


308 


RELIGION    OF    THE    BIBLE 


NOT    FANATICAL. 


309 


I: 


MALIGNANT  PowERs,  whose  tyrannous  rage  could  be 
propitiated  only  by  horrible  rites.  In  this  sense, 
emphatically,  Moses  and  the  Prophets  struck  at  the 
root  of  fanaticism,  by  instating  the  Holy  and  Supreme 
Benevolence  in  the  heart  of  man,  as  the  only  object 
of  dread,  and  by  dislodging  from  their  seats  the  host 
of  ferocious  invisible  divinities. 

We  dare  then  conclude,  upon  impartial  and  atten- 
tive consideration  of  the  evidence,  ^r^^  that  the  reli- 
gion of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  is  not  of  fanatical 
tendency ;  and  then  that  the  writers  of  those  books 
were  not  men  of  exaggerated  and  malign  tempers. 

In  reaching  this  conclusion  we  have  assumed  nothino^ 
peculiar  in  behalf  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  ;  but  have 
looked  at  them  as  we  should  at  any  other  ancient 
writings,  and  have  endeavoured  to  estimate  their 
quality  and  influence  on  the  ordinary  principles  of 
human  nature.  But  the  result  of  such  an  examination 
must  be — as  we  undoubtedly  believe,  to  establish  the 
divine  original  of  these  books.  This  point  secured, 
and  it  is  secured  too  on  every  separate  line  of  argu- 
ment that  is  applicable  to  the  subject,  and  then  the 
fact — That  the  Jewish  Lawgiver,  and  the  prophets, 
and  the  poets  of  Israel  were  men  immediately  com- 
missioned and  empowered  by  God,  affords  a  proper 
solution  of  every  apparent  difliculty,  arising  either 
from  the  spirit  and  complexion  of  particular  passages, 
or  from  the  course  of  conduct  enjoined  in  special  in- 
stances. 

What  can  be  more  manifest  than  the  propriety  of 
this  mode  of  treating  such  difficulties  ?  For  one  man 
to  accost  another  as  the  enemy  of  God — or  to  adjudge 
him  to  perdition,  or  to  strike  him  to  the  earth,  is  indeed 
an  outrage  such  as  bespeaks  in  the  assailant  the  most 
dire  fanaticism,  or  absolute  insanity.  But  the  case  is 
altogether  altered  if  this  same  denunciator,  or  execu- 
tioner of  the  wrath  of  Heaven  is  able  to  show  Heaven's 
credentials  actually  in  his  hand.  He  whom  God 
sends,  speaks  the  words  of  God — delivers  a  trust  which 


he  has  no  liberty  to  evade,  and  performs  a  part  that 
can  have  no  immorality,  because  it  proceeds  from  the 
Source  of  Law.  This  rule  applies,  without  an  ex- 
ception, to  all  those  instances,  so  often  and  so  idly 
produced,  in  which  the  question  hinges  exclusively 
upon  the  fact  of  a  divine  injunction  given  to  the 
speaker  or  the  agent.  If  the  prophet,  or  the  chief 
were  indeed  inspired,  then  the  words  he  utters  or  the 
deeds  he  performs  are  not  to  be  accounted  his ;  and 
though  arrogant  or  vindictive,  if  human  only,  are  fitting 
and  just — if  divine.  Concede  the  divinity  of  the 
Scriptures,  and  then  every  such  objection  is  merged, 
or  becomes  ineffably  futile.  Deny  their  divinity,  and 
then  the  argument  is  altogether  unimportant. 


RELIGION    OF    THE    BIBLE    NOT   FANATICAL.       311 


i^«l 


SECTION  X. 


THE    RELIGION    OF   THE    BIBLE    NOT   FANATICAL. 
(the    NEW   TESTAMENT.) 

To  entertain,  even  hypothetically,  an  argument  such 
as  the  one  before  us,  may  seem  not  merely  superflu- 
ous, but  improper.  What,  it  may  be  asked,  has  the 
world  seen  comparable  to  Christianity  for  the  benignity 
of  its  maxims  and  spirit  ?  Where  are  we  to  find 
charity,  where  meekness,  where  philanthropy,  if  not 
in  the  Gospels  ? — To  inquire  then,  as  if  the  issue  were 
doubtful,  whether  this  religion  be  rancorous  and 
fanatical,  might  appear  not  more  irreverent  than 
preposterous. 

Be  it  so,  and  yet  we  must  advance  in  our  course 
without  fear.  To  a  timid  objector  it  is  enough  to  re- 
ply that,  as  in  fact  the  most  inordinate  species  of  fan- 
aticism have,  in  different  eras,  sprung  out  of  the  pro- 
fession of  Christianity,  and  have  in  the  most  intimate 
manner  blended  themselves  with  its  principles,  there  is 
a  very  urgent  necessity,  if  we  would  deal  fairly  with 
our  subject,  for  a  strict  search  into  the  authentic  docu- 
ments of  our  faith,  with  this  specific  view ;  and  the 
issue  of  such  an  inquiry,  as  we  are  persuaded,  can  be 
nothing  else  but  to  prove— -^r*^,  That  these  writings 
contain  no  malign  excitements;  and  secondly^  That 
the  writers  were  personally  exempt  from  every  kind 
of  spurious  and  rancorous  sentiment.     The  question 


having  already  been  briefly  considered  on  general 
grounds,  (pp.  273 — 277)  we  have  now  only  to  pass 
(with  as  much  celerity  as  the  argument  admits) 
through  the  several  canonical  books,  noting  as  it  arises, 
whatever  fairly  bears  upon  the  question. 

We  are  met,  on  the  very  first  page  of  the  evangelic 
history,  by  a  choir  of  supernal  beings,  announcing  the 
Saviour's  birth,  which  is  declared  to  bring  "  peace  on 
earth,  and  goodwill  to  men,"  as  well  as  "  glory  to 
God."  Has  this  angelic  profession  then  been  borne 
out,  or  contradicted  by  facts  ? — A  perplexing  question, 
if  we  are  resolved  to  impute  to  systems,  or  persons, 
the  entire  mischief  that  has  chanced  to  stand  connected, 
ever  so  remotely,  with  them  ;  but  by  no  means  per- 
plexing, if  we  mean  to  look  equitably  at  the  intrinsic 
qualities  of  a  system,  and  to  the  personal  dispositions 
and  conduct  of  the  men  who  have  yielded  themselves 
the  most  completely  to  its  influence.  On  this  ground  it 
may  confidently  be  affirmed  that,  as  peace  and  philan- 
thropy are  the  grand  lesson  of  the  Gospel,  so  hav^ 
they  been  its  actual  fruits. 

A  circumstance  that  ought  by  no  means  to  be  passed 
over,  is  the  sort  of  welcome  given  to  the  "holy  child" 
on  his  first  entrance  upon  his  *'  Father's  house" — the 
Jewish  temple.  There  the  long  desired  "  consolation 
of  Israel"  is  affirmed  to  be  "  a  Light  to  lighten  the 
Gentiles,"  as  well  as  the  glory  of  the  chosen  people. 
Early;check,  this,  to  the  then  prevalent  and  fast  ripening 
national  arrogance  and  bigotry  of  the  Abrahamic  race  ! 
Although  thus  it  had  been  long  before  "  written  in  the 
prophets,"  no  principle  could  more  oflfend  the  pre- 
judices of  the  times  than  this — That  the  Messiah,  the 
King  of  Israel,  should  bless,  rather  than  exterminate 
and  vanquish,  the  uncircumcised  families  of  the  earth. 
The  ascetic  habit  and  austere  style  of  the  Baptist,  as 
we  descry  him  amid  the  frowning  solitudes  of  the 
Jordan,  and  see  him  with  his  feet  washed  by  its  dark 
waters,  seem  to  promise  something  not  in  harmony 
with  those  cheering  persuasive  notes  of  mercy  to  man- 


312 


RELIGION    OF    THE    BIBLE 


kind  we  had  lately  listened  to  from  heaven.  And  so 
in  fact  the  preaching  of  John  is  found  to  be  in  "  the 
spirit  and  power  of  Elijah" — a  ministry  of  reproof — a 
piercing  call  to  repentance  ;  and  especially  a  sharp 
rebuke  of  national  sanctimoniousness  and  corruption  : 
— or  to  say  all  in  a  word,  the  preaching  of  John  was 
an  energetic  corrective  of  the  hypocrisy  and  fanatical 
presumption  of  his  countrymen.  "  Bring  forth,"  he 
cries,  "  fruits  meet  for  repentance  ;  and  think  not  to 
say  to  yourselves,  '  We  have  Abraham  to  our  father ;' 
for  1  say  to  you  that  God  is  able  of  these  stones  to 
raise  up  children  to  Abraham  ; " — Yes,  although  the 
Jewish  race,  with  all  its  proud  pretensions  were  swept 
from  the  face  of  the  earth,  Abraham  should  not  want 
a  spiritual  progeny,  for  the  Divine  power  would  (as 
actually  it  did)  instate  the  Gentiles  in  the  privileges  of 
the  ancient  church.  The  Baptist  then,  although  as  we 
catch  a  glimpse  of  him,  while  eagerly  listened  to  by  a 
promiscuous  crowd,  he  may  have  the  air  of  a  virulent 
declaimer,  is  not  such  in  fact ;  for  if  we  will  but  draw 
near,  and  give  attention  to  his  discourse,  we  find  him 
vigorously  assailing  [the  national  arrogance,  and  we 
hear  him  humbling  his  hearers  in  their  own  esteem,  by 
insisting  on  those  capital  articles  of  morality  which  had 
dropt  out  of  their  scheme  of  punctilious  and  farcical 
piety. — Moreover  he  fails  not  to  renounce  for  himself 
the  honours  which  the  people  would  have  paid  him : — 
but  this  surely  bespeaks  him  a  genuine  prophet  of  the 
Lord,  and  proves  that  he  was  no  aspiring  sectarist. 

In  the  remarkable  narrative  of  the  temptation,  the 
principal  circumstance  (bearing  on  our  question)  is  an 
assertion,  by  our  Lord,  of  the  claim  of  God  to  human 
reverence,  in  contradiction  of  the  impious  homage 
which  the  Rebel  Spirit  falsely  challenged  to  himself, 
as  master  of  the  world.  The  rebuke,  "  Get  thee 
behind  me,  Satan,"  bore  against  all  forms  of  polythe- 
istic superstition,  the  essence  of  which,  under  whatever 
guise,  is  a  servile  deference  paid  to  malevolent  invisible 
power.    And  this  comprehensive  condemnation  of  the 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


313 


worst  of  all  errors  was  followed  up,  throughout  the 
course  of  our  Lord's  ministry,  by  his  exercising  a 
rigorous  control  over  the  infernal  legions : — The  ma- 
lignant power  was  no  longer  to  usurp  the  regards  of 
mankind ;  for  a  stronger  arm  than  his  had  despoiled 
him  of  the  **  armour  wherein  he  trusted ;"  and  hence- 
forward the  Supreme  Benevolence  alone  was  to  be 
looked  to  by  man,  as  the  object  of  hope  and  fear. 
The  tendency  of  the  New  Testament  is  altogether  to 
emancipate  the  human  mind  from  its  ancient  thraldom 
to  the  invisible  tyrants  ;  and  it  does  this,  not  by  affirm- 
ing the  non-existence  of  such  beings,  but  by  exposing 
their  guile,  and  by  declaring  their  enchainment,  under 
the  hand  of  the  Omnipotent  Son  of  God. — In  thus 
removing  the  grounds  of  superstition,  Christianity, 
wherever  it  takes  eifect,  dries  up  the  source  of  fanat- 
icism, the  virulence  of  which  is  drawn  from  the  belief 
of  a  malevolent  administration  of  human  affairs.* 

Every  form  of  religious  rancour  is  implicitly 
reproved  in  the  announcement  which  the  Divine 
Deliverer  m.ilros,  at  un  onrly  ^^tage  of  his  public  min- 
istry, of  the  purpoie  of  God  toward  mankind  ; — "  The  . 
Father  hath  so  loved  the  world  as  to  give  his  only- 
begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believelh  in  him  should 
not  perish,  but  have  eternal  life.  For  the  Father  sent 
not  his  Son  into  the  world  to  condemn  the  world ;  but 
that  the  vorld  might  be  saved  through  him." — And 
again,  when  he  declares  that — "  The  Son  of  man  is 
not  come  to  destroy  men's  lives,  but  to  save  them." 
Whether  it  be  the  self-tormenting  rigour  of  the  ascetic, 
or  the  deadly  zeal  of  the  Inquisitor,  or  the  martial  rage 
of  the  Moslem  conqueror,  or  the  crabbed  bigotry  of 
the  modern  dogmatist;  each  is  utterly  condemned, 
and  the  specious  pretexts  of  each  are  torn  away,  by 

*  The  subject  of  diabolical  agency  has  been  once  and  a^in  alluded 
to,  as  connected  with  fanatical  sentiments.  Had  it  been  possible  to 
bring  the  question  within  narrow  limits,  the  author  would  have  given 
it  a  prominent  place  in  the  present  volume.  He  proposes  to  treat  it 
more  distinctly  in  his  projected  work  on  Superstition. 


314 


RELIGION   OF   THE   BIBLE 


this  first  axiom  of  Christianity — That  the  Gospel  is  at 
once  the  expression,  and  the  means  of  the  Divine 
Benevolence  toward  mankind  at  large.  Any 
zeal,  therefore,  which  is  not  benign,  is  not  a  godly  or 
Christian  zeal ;  rather,  we  should  deem  it  an  infernal 
impulse  that  drives  on  those  who,  under  pretence  of 
religion,  torture  themselves,  or  others,  or  indulge  sen- 
timents of  contempt  and  hatred  toward  mankind  in 
the  mass,  or  toward  particular  bodies  of  men: — if  this 
be  our  spirit,  it  is  not  the  spirit  of  Jesus ; — for  he  was 
♦'  the  Saviour  of  all  men."  It  is  Satan — not  Christ, 
who  is  the  author  of  cruelties,  and  the  patron  and 
upholder  of  sects. 

The  broadest  and  the  firmest  foundation  being  thus 
laid  in  the  Gospel  for  philanthropy  (nothing  more 
broad  can  be  imagined)  those  condemnatory  announce- 
ments which  bear  out  the  message  of  mercy  are  wholly 
deprived  of  the  pernicious  force  that  otherwise  might 
have  belonged  to  them.  Nothing  can  destroy  men, 
we  learn,  but  their  final  contempt  of  the  Divine  for- 
bearance. All  men  therefore  are  to  be  regarded  as 
salvable ;  and  all  are,  in  a  genuine  sense,  the  objects 
of  the  same  Benevolence  which  has  rescued  ourselves 
from  perdition.  To  give  effect  to  this  divine  benevo- 
lence (so  far  as  human  agency  may  extend)  is  the  part 
that  belongs  to  Christians;  nor  can  any  motive  be 
authentic  that  will  not  freely  play  in  concert  with  the 
unrestricted  zeal  of  compassion. 

Our  Lord  in  his  discourse  with  the  Samaritan 
woman  throws  open  the  gate  of  religious  privilege  to 
all  nations ; — thus  shutting  out  the  Jewish  arrogance, 
and  at  the  same  time  securing  the  special  authority  of 
tnith,  against  a  vague  and  spurious  candour.  *'  Ye 
(Samaritans)  know  not  what  ye  worship ; — for  salva- 
tion is  of  the  Jews." — It  is  they  who  are  the  keepers 
of  the  recorded  will  of  Heaven ;  it  is  from  among 
them  that  shall  spring  up  the  new  and  universal 
religion.  Nevertheless  this  new  religion,  although  of 
Jewish  birth,  is  not  to  be  the  property  of  the  worship- 


not  fanatical. 


315 


pers  at  Jerusalem  only ;  but  shall  comprehend  those 
of  every  country  who  "  worship  the  Father  in  spirit 
and  truth." — The  Gospel  advances  always  on  a  pre- 
cise line,  nor  must  it  ever  be  turned  from  the  prescribed 
track. — Yet  is  this  line  "gone  forth  into  all  the  world," 
and  like  the  equatorial,  must  girt  the  globe. 

The  motives  of  Christianity,  like  the  powers  of 
nature,  produce  their  genuine  fruits  only  in  combina- 
tion :  whoever  severs,  perverts  them.  Thus  when  it 
was  said  to  the  first  promulgators  of  the  Gospel,  just 
about  to  "  go  forth  as  sheep  among  wolves" — "  Happy 
are  ye  when  men  speak  evil  of  you,  and  persecute  you, 
and  say  all  manner  of  evil  of  you  falsely  for  my  sake," 
this  same  self-congratulation  which  it  was  lawful  to 
admit  under  injurious  treatment,  might  readily  subside 
into  a  malign  l^abit  within  the  bosom  of  the  oppressed 
sectarist,  if  it  weie  not  balanced  by  that  other  exhor- 
tation, soon  subjoined,  and  so  emphatically  given — 
"  Love  your  enemies ;  bless  them  that  curse  you  ;  do 
good  to  them  that  hate  you  ;  and  pray  for  them  that 
despitefully  use  you  and  persecute  you." — The  fanatic 
divides  these  counteractive  elements  of  feeling. — He 
blesses  himself  in  the  presumption  of  Divine  favour, 
and  if  he  does  not  loudly  curse  his  persecutor,  mutters 
an  anticipation  of  tiie  wrath  that  is  to  fall  upon  "  the 
enemies  of  God." — To  love  his  enemy,  and  heartily  to 
wish  him  well,  is  a  point  of  virtue  he  scarcely  pretends 
to.  The  rule  of  Divine  forgiveness  brings  these  very 
SMime  motives  into  close  contact.  Sternly  is  it  declared 
that  he  who  grants  no  pardon  to  others,  shall  receive 
none  for  himself.  The  vindictive  religionist  avoids  the 
application  of  the  rule  to  his  own  case,  only  by  re- 
nouncing the  sup|)Osition  of  personal  guilt : — he  who 
has  no  sin,  needs  not  show  indulgence.  And  thus  in 
fact  we  find  an  egregious  conceit  of  the  favour  of  God 
towards  himself,  to  be  always  the  germ  of  the  rancor- 
ous sentiments  of  the  bigot. 

If  at  any  time  our  Lord — "  meek  and  lowly"  as  he 
was,  assumed  the  tones  of  indignant  reproof,  we  find 


* 


316 


RELIGION   OF  THE   BIBLE 


it  on  those  occasions  precisely  when  the  sanctimonious 
and  fanatical  Scribe,  Pharisee,  and  Lawyer,  stood 
before  him  ; — not  when  surrounded  by  the  publicans 
and  sinners  of  the  people.  Never  before  had  haughty 
and  hollow  religionism  received  so  severe  a  reprimand 
as  that  reported  by  the  Evangelist,*  in  which  not 
merely  is  the  veil  rent  from  the  lace  of  hypocrisy ;  but 
the  culprit's  false  heart  is  laid  open,  and  the  double- 
edged  knife  pierces  to  the  "  dividing  asunder  of  the 
joints  and  marrow  ;" — nay,  the  very  "  thoughts  and 
intents  of  the  soul"  are  exposed  to  the  gaze  of  all. 
Neither  is  the  hypocrite  or  the  fanatic  spared,  although 
found  among  the  chosen  followers  of  the  Lord. — 
"  Have  not  I  chosen  you  twelve,*'  said  the  Lord  ;  "  and 
one  of  you  is  a  devil  ?"  And  how  did  he  check  the 
intemperate  zeal  of  those  of  them  who  would  have 
called  down  fire  from  heaven  to  avenge  the  inhospital- 
ity  of  certain  Samaritans  : — "  Ye  know  not  what 
spirit  ye  are  of"  And  again,  as  if  to  shut  out  on  every 
side  a  false  temper  in  matters  of  religion,  he  defended 
the  harmless  trespass  of  his  followers  in  the  corn  field, 
against  the  punctilious  objection  of  the  Pharisees. — 
"  If  ye  had  known  what  that  meaneth,  I  will  have 
mercy  and  not  sacrifice,  ye  would  not  have  condem.ned 
the  innocent."  Is  not  this  answer  the  very  antithesis 
of  fanaticism  ?  does  it  not  reach  the  core  of  spiritual 
acerbity  ? 

So  far  as  the  public  ministry  of  Christ  may  be 
termed  criminative  and  severe,  the  object  of  it  was 
that  special  disposition  whence  fanaticism  takes  its  rise, 
namely — an  affected  zeal  for  the  purity  of  religion, 
showing  itself  in  a  conceit  of  the  Divine  favour  toward 
the  zealot  himself,  and  an  envious  contempt  of  the 
mass  of  mankind.  These  were  in  fact  the  character- 
istic vices  of  the  time,  and  it  was  against  these,  and 
these  only,  that  the  Divine  Teacher  directed  the  vehe- 
mence of  his   reprehension.     We  say  then  that  if  a 


*  Matt,  xxiii. 


NOT  FANATICAL. 


317 


Spurious  and  malign  zeal  is  found  to  be  the  national 
fault  of  the  Jewish  people,  at  the  era  of  Christianity, 
the  teat  hing  of  Christ,  far  from  fomenting  that  perni- 
cious teiiiper,  in  the  most  bold  and  unsparing  manner 
condemned  it. 

Yet  we  should  look  to  those  special  occasions  on 
which  the  temper  of  a  Teacher,  or  the  tendency  of  a 
system  makes  itself  apparent  in  some  incidental  and 
indirect  manner.  Now  we  actually  find  an  instance 
of  this  sort,  and  a  very  signal  one,  when  the  seventy 
delegates,  after  having  borne  their  message  through 
the  towns  of  Jewry,  returned  to  their  Master  with  joy, 
saying — "Lord,  even  the  daemons  are  subject  unto  us 
through  thy  name  !*'  Natural  exultation  !  and  yet  the 
feeling  whence  it  sprang  was  of  a  dangerous  kind  ; 
or  at  least  was  one  that  urgently  demands  to  be  coun- 
terpoised by  motives  of  quite  another  order.  How 
readily  does  the  human  imagination  kindle  at  the 
thought  of  a  near  contact  with  Invisible  Powers ! — 
and  if  moreover  these  Powers  are  thought  of  as  malev- 
olent, the  darkest  and  most  terrible  passions  rush  in 
to  lend  their  Ibrce  to  the  conceptions  of  evil.  Should 
it  happen  too,  at  the  same  time,  that  an  open  triumph 
has  been  had  over  such  beings,  who  long  had  made 
sport  of  human  frailty,  the  gloomy  excitement  of  the 
soul  reaciies  its  utmost  point : — or  it  may  do  so.  Were 
any  such  emotions  actually  rife  in  the  bosoms  of  his 
followers — and  we  must  not  affirm  it  to  be  impossible, 
our  Lord  did  by  no  means  check  the  mischief  in  the 
manner  which  the  frigid  sceptic  would  approve  ; — he 
did  not  avail  himself  of  that  fair  occasion  for  rooting 
out  of  the  minds  of  his  disciples  the  belief  altogether 
of  malignant  and  hostile  invisible  power; — far  from  it 
— he  solemnly  authenticates  that  belief  when  he  says — 
"  I  beheld  Satan  as  lightning  fall  from  heaven  :" — and 
again — '*  I  give  you  authority  over  all  the  power  of 
The  Enemy."  But  the  sentiments  of  his  followers 
were  not  to  be  left  to  rest  at  this  point; — their  feelings 
were  to  be  carried  forward,  as  all  genuine  religious 

28* 


m 


318 


RELIGION   OP   THE   BIBLE 


emotions  should,  into  the  bright  region  of  hope,  humi[> 
ity,  and  pious  gratitude. — "  Notwithstanding  in  this 
rejoice  not  that  the  spirits  are  subject  unto  you  ;  but 
rather  rejoice  because  your  names  are  written  in  hea- 
ven.'* To  complete  the  transition  from  a  less  benign 
sentiment,  to  one  more  congenial  with  the  spirit  of  the 
Gospel,  Jesus  uttered  aloud  a  thanksgiving  which,  by 
a  manifest  implication,  conveyed  a  very  humiliating 
lesson  to  the  heart  of  the  hearers.  "  I  thank  thee,  O 
Father,  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  that  thou  hast  hid 
these  things  from  the  wise  and  prudent,  and  hasl 
revealed  them  unto  babes  /"  If  among  the  seventy 
there  was  found  a  proud,  an  ambitious,  or  a  rancorous 
spirit,  what  rebuke  could  it  have  received  more  point- 
ed than  the  one  involved  in  the  terms  of  this  address 
to  heaven?  Fanaticism  can  take  no  hold  of  the  human 
mind  until  that  child-like  temper  which  Christ  here 
affirms  and  supposes  to  be  characteristic  of  his  dis- 
ciples has  been  thrown  off. 

Presenting  itself  as  it  does  in  the  same  connexion, 
we  ought  to  notice  that  significant — nay,  severe  re- 
proof of  Jewish  arrogance  which  the  parable  of  the 
compassionate  Samaritan  conveys. — What  irony  more 
caustic  than  that  of  bringing  upon  the  scene  the  Priest 
and  Levite,  of  whom  we  catch  a  glimpse  as  they  move 
off,  wrapped  in  sacerdotal  scrupulosity  and  pride  ; 
while  a  Samaritan  (hated  name)  comes  up  to  furnish 
the  lesson  of  piety  and  mercy  !  We  ought  distinctly 
to  conceive  of  the  virulence  of  national  feelings  at  the 
time,  if  we  would  understand  the  cutting  force  of  this 
apologue.  The  parable  of  the  Prodigal,  in  like  man- 
ner, obliquely,  but  not  obscurely  assails  the  bad  and 
grudging  temper  of  the  Jewish  people,  and  holds  forth, 
in  figure,  the  very  line  of  conduct  which  the  zealots  of 
that  nation  actually  pursued  when  aTterwards  they 
saw  "  Sinners  of  the  Gentiles"  coming  to  the  arms  of 
Divine  mercy,  and  numbered  with  the  family  of  God. 
These  incidental  instances  are  pertinent  to  our  subject, 
inasmuch  as  they  shew  the  steady  purpose  of  our  Lord 


KOT   FANATICAL. 


319 


to  place  his  doctrine  and  his  system  of  morals  in  direct 
opposition  to  the  existing  sentiments  of  his  country- 
men.— He  mortified  every  fond  prejudice,  as  well  as 
reproved  every  scandal  of  the  times. 

The  difficult  point  of  practical  wisdom  in  the  con- 
duct of  a  public  instructor  is  always  the  management 
of  those  articles  of  faith  that  wear  an  adverse  aspect 
one  to  the  other.  •  This  is  the  stumbling  stone  of  the 
presumptuous  reasoner: — this  the  occasion  of  offence 
to  the  feeble  ; — this  the  ordeal  of  discretion.  Three 
or  four  such  instances  might  be  named ;  but  they  are 
all  by  implication  contained  in  the  two  main  princi- 
ples— each  fully  and  freely  affirmed  in  the  Christian 
system — namely,  The  Divine  Benevolence — absolute 
as  it  is,  and  the  Divine  Justice,  involving  tremendous 
consequences  to  the  human  race.  It  is  here  that  the 
iron-sinewed  theologue,  with  his  paper  demonstrations, 
has  outraged  at  once  the  Divine  Character,  and  every 
natural  sentiment  of  equity  and  goodness ;  it  is  here 
that  the  murky  fanatic  shews  his  home  to  be  the  world 
of  evil ;  and  it  is  here,  on  the  other  side,  that  those 
have  stumbled  and  fallen  who  scruple  not  to  make  the 
Divine  testimony  nugatory  whenever  it  offends  them. 

How  different  was  the  style  of  the  Divine  Teacher 
in  this  instance,  and  in  giving  attention  for  a  moment 
to  his  method,  if  we  do  no  more,  we  shall  catch  a  note 
or  two  of  that  celestial  harmony  which  breathed  in 
every  w^ord  he  spoke,  and  proclaimed  him  to  be  "  from 
above." 

The  then  extant  belief  of  the  Jewish  people  (or  the 
greater  part  of  them)  on  the  subject  of  future  punish- 
ishmdnt,*  our  Lord  did  not  mitigate  ;  nor  did  he  leave 
it  where  he  found  it ;  but  affirmed  it  anew,  made  it  an 

♦  A  knowledge  of  the  opinions  and  modes  of  speaking  prevalent 
among  the  Jews  is  necessary  to  a  correct  understanding  of  our  Lord's 
language  on  this  serious  subject.  Philo  especially  should  bo  searched 
for  this  purpose.  The  doctrine  he  holds  is  of  a  very  decisive  character 

xxt   (MihTFzr  a-fiso-ffrifxi  ^vvei/^nof  .    .    .    .  De  Profugis, 


320 


RELIGION    OF    THE    BIBLE 


M 


inseparable  part  of  his  religion,  and  gave  it  his  sanc- 
tion in  terms  as  distinct  and  irrefragable  as  language 
affords.  Compared  with  Moses  or  with  the  prophets, 
or  with  other  Religious  Institutors,  Christ  might  in  a 
sense  be  called  the  Herald  of  Wrath.  Not  one  of  his 
ministers  (so  far  as  appears)  came  up  to  their  Master 
in  the  fulness  or  the  frequency  of  his  announcement 
of  the  doom  of  the  impertinent.  They,  though  with 
firmness,  yet  with  modesty  and  fear,  assert  the  terrors 
of  Divine' Justice  ;  but  he  speaks  like  one  whose  eye, 
piercing  the  thin  veil  of  the  material  world,  continu- 
ally gazed  upon  the  mysteries  of  the  unseen.  The 
apostles  spoke  in  the  confidence  of  faith  ;  Christ  with 
the  vivacity  of  immediate  knowledge. 

And  yet,  w^ho  like  Jesus  has  manifested  the  glory  of 
the  Father,  whose  glory  is  love  ?  By  what  means 
then  did  he  bear  in  his  hands,  together,  these  antagonist 
elements  of  religion?  Certainly  it  was  not  by  labouring 
to  extenuate  at  one  time  what  he  had  too  boldly  affirm- 
ed at  another.  Never  did  he  insinuate,  or  throw  out 
as  by  chance,  mitigations  which  the  sceptic  niight 
catch  up,  and  expand  at  his  pleasure.  Neither  did  he 
enter  at  any  time  upon  exculpatory  reasons  in 
behalf  of  the  divine  administration  of  human  affairs  ; 
nor  open  the  way  to  abstruse  speculation,  such  as 
should  establish  the  eternal  consistencies  of  goodness 
and  severity.  Not  a  syllable  did  he  furnish  as  text  to 
the  learned  disquisitions  that  have  entertained  the 
schools. — In  a  word,  our  Lord  made  no  direct  provis- 
ion against  those  abuses  or  ill  consequences  that  might 
flow  from  his  doctrine. 

Nevertheless  these  ill  consequences  are  in  fact  so 
counteracted,  that  Christianity,  even  by  the  admission 
of  its  enemies,  taken  as  a  whole,  and  taken  as  its 
Author  left  it,  is  bright  and  benign.  The  means  by 
which  the  two  elements  of  wrath  and  love  are  bal- 
anced, so  far  as  they  may  be  traced,  bespeak  the  same 
wisdom  that  adjusts  and  balances  the  antagonist  pow- 
ers of  nature.     The  first  and  most  obvious  counterac- 


NOT    FANATICAL. 


321 


live  means  we  have  already  had  occasion  (page  121 — 
123)  to  speak  of — namely,  the  invariable  and  intelligi- 
ble annexation  of  the  threatened  punishment  to  vicious 
acts,  and  to  an  impious  life,  so  that  the  doctrine  bears 
always  directly  upon  the  conscience,  and  gives  its  aid 
to  virtue. 

In  the  next  place,  our  Lord,  without  ever  attempt- 
ing, on  abstract  ground  to  harmonize  the  divine  attri- 
butes, exhibited  the  glory,  beauty,  and  sweetness  of 
the  Paternal  Creator,  and  Preserver,  and  Sovereign, 
in  a  manner  never  before  thought  of,  and  which  can 
never  be  steadily  contemplated  by  any  human  mind 
without  imparting  sentiments  that  efiectually  exclude 
morose  or  fanatical  emotions.  This  is  a  countervail- 
ing provision,  not  formal  indeed,  but  infallible,  and  of 
irresistible  force.  The  providence  of  God,  both  uni- 
versal and  particular,  comprehensive  and  minute,  the 
unremitted  care  of  life,  the  regard  to  the  wants,  and 
fears,  and  hopes,  and  even  comfort  of  all  creatures, 
the  constant  attention  to  prayer,  the  special  regard  to 
the  poor,  the  feeble,  and  the  lowly,  and  the  Divine 
forbearance  toward  the  disobedient, — all  these  benign 
elements  of  theology  form  the  prominent  characteris- 
tics of  the  teaching  of  Christ. 

But  how  can  we  reconcile  such  exhibitions  of  ten- 
derness and  love  with  the  actual  facts,  announced  by 
the  same  Teacher,  of  the  ruin  and  miseries  of  man  ? 
The  teacher  himself,  confiding  in  the  real,  though 
occult  consistency  of  what  he  declares,  and  not 
anxious  for  consequences,  throws  out  the  two  great 
principles,  and  leaves  them  to  work  as  they  may, 
within  the  human  bosom.  With  that  serenity  which 
befits  the  Author  of  Christianity,  as  Author  of  all 
things,  and  Sovereign  of  the  Universe,  he  puts  in 
play  each  proper  impulse  of  the  moral  economy. — 
Purblind  Philosophy  may  calL  them  incompatible. — 
Nature  and  Truth  shall  pronounce  them  one. 

We  have  yet  to  advance  a  step  further. — So  con- 
tracted and  exclusive  in  its  modes  of  feeling  is  the 


*i 


322 


RELIGION   OP   THE    BIBLE 


human  mind,  that  if  we  converse  much  and  long  with 
terrible  or  afflictive  conceptions,  and  heartily  surrender 
ourselves  to  the  impression  of  certain  appalling  facts, 
it  is  not  easy  to  avoid  becoming  sullenly  indifferent  to 
the  present  sufferings  of  mankind ;  as  if  it  were  of 
httle  moment  what  those  are  enduring  in  the  present 
life,  who  must  endure  worse  in  the  next.  Not  such 
were  the  sentiments  of  the  Saviour  of  the  world ; — 
no  insensibility  of  this  kind  affected  his  human  sympa- 
thies: He  thought  lightly  of  no  pain  or  want  that 
attaches  to  mortality :  infirmity,  or  anguish,  or  hunger, 
he  cared  for,  and  relieved. — "  He  bare  our  infirmities, 
and  himself  took  our  sicknesses."  The  benevolence 
of  the  Lord  Jesus  was  like  the  radiance  of  the  sui^ 
which,  while  spreading  itself  over  the  broad  field*  of 
the  universe,  even  to  the  utmost  verge  of  nature, 
pervades  also  the  most  obscure  recesses,  penetrates 
every  depth,  and  brings  home  warmth  and  joy  to  the 
meanest  orders  of  the  sentient  world. 

Come  to  what  conclusion  we  may,  or  let  us  be 
never  so  much  perplexed  in  our  fruitless  endeavours 
to  reach  any  conclusion  that  may  fully  reconcile 
opposing  truths,  the  fact  stands  before  us — a  fact  full 
of  instruction,  that  He  whose  doctrine  inspires  us  with 
extreme  alarm  on  account  of  the  great  mass  of  our 
fellow  men,  nevertheless,  when  in  the  desert  he  looked 
upon  the  multitudes  that  had  left  their  homes  to  follow 
him,  "  had  compassion  upon  them,"  and  would  by  no 
means  leave  them  to  suffer  even  a  transient  hunger 
and  fatigue.  The  same  spirit  pervades  every  action  ; 
he  healed — "  as  many  as  were  brought  unto  him,"  he 
rejected  none; — he  made  no  conditions;  but  dispensed 
good  with  a  royal  facility,  as  well  as  with  sensitive 
tenderness.  Nor  did  the  momentous  importance  of 
his  public  work  alienate  him  from  the  suavities  of 
personal  friendship.  Still  we  find  no  theologic  expli- 
cation of  the  apparent  contrariety  of  Love  and  Justice ; 
but  instead  of  it,  are  presented  with  a  living  exemplar 
of  the  harmony  of  the  two. 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


323 


Another  striking  characteristic  of  our  Lord's  senti- 
ments, as  exhibited  in  his  mode  of  teaching,  bears 
directly  upon  our  subject. — This  is  the  style  and 
materials  of  his  tropes  and  apologues.  If  the  imagi- 
nation  be  susceptible  of  vivid  impressions,  it  is  scarcely 
possible  to  entertain  frequently  conceptions  of  terror 
without  losing  the  taste  or  the  faculty  that  finds 
recreation  among  the  gay  beauties  and  simple  charms 
of  nature.  Fruits  and  flowers,  bright  skies  and  rustic 
occupations,  retain  no  hold  of  the  spirit  that  often 
takes  its  flight  through  the  abyss  of  horrors.  To  stoop 
and  to  gather  illustrations,  and  to  do  so  by  habit,  from 
the  garden  and  the  field,  and  from  the  humble  labours 
oi^  domestic  life,  has  never  been  the  manner  of  those 
who  have  borne  heavy  tidings  to  their  fellow  rnen — 
even  when  their  motive  has  been  sincere  and  benevo- 
lent ;  much  less  of  the  ireful  reformer,  the  glance  of 
whose  eye  seems  to  scathe  whatever  dares  to  look 
green  and  happy. 

Yet  it  was  not  so  with  Jesus.  When  we  bear  in 
mind  the  ordinary  alliance  of  the  moral  sentiments  with 
the  imagination,  and  think  how  naturally  subject^  of  a 
vast  and  afflictive  order  cloud  the  mind,  and  impurt  to 
it  an  inflexible  rigour,  we  must  contemplate  with 
amazement,  in  our  Lord's  discourses  and  parable  •,  the 
junction  of  elements  seemingly  the  most  incongruous. 
* — What  more  appalling — what,  if  indeed  we  follow  it 
to  its  meaning,  what  more  distracting  to  the  iieart, 
than  the  affirmations  which  often  conclude  a  seri'^s  of 
parables  that  has  brought  together  the  smiling  beauties 
of  the  visible  creation,  and  the  gentle  familiar  suavities 
of  common  life  !  Considered  as  literature  merely,  our 
Lord's  discourses,  as  well  public  as  private,  take  their 
place,  not  along  with  the  vehement  and  impassioned 
harangues  of  orators ;  but  with  the  mildest  and  most 
attractive  class  of  pastoral  and  dramatic  compositions. 
Yet  what  were  the  truths  that  stretched  a  dark  and 
deep  foundation  beneath  this  fair  superstructure  of 
heavenly  wisdom? — truths  which,  when  vividly  per- 


n 


324 


RELIGION    OF   THE    BIBLE 


reived  by  other  men,  have  absorbed  the  soul,  and 
given  a  sombre  colour  to  every  sentiment.  Nowhere, 
except  in  the  discourses  recorded  by  the  Evangelists, 
do  we  hear  such  mingled  tones  of  terror  and  sweet- 
ness issuing  from  the  same  lips.  The  apostles,  though 
raised  above  the  common  level  by  the  Spirit  that  dwelt 
in  them,  yet  never  reached,  nor  even  approached,  the 
elevation  of  their  Master.  Their  style  was  human ; 
and  the  weighty  matters  of  their  message  to  mankind 
so  pressed  upon  their  hearts  that  they  became,  in  some 
measure,  abstracted  from  the  smaller  interests  of  life, 
and  insensible  to  the  graces  of  nature.  Their  language, 
though  figurative,  is  always  urgent  and  grave,  and 
befitting  men  whose  task  is  felt  by  themselves  to  sur- 
pass their  powers. 

The  graceful  serenity  and  happy  case  of  our  Lord's 
mode  of  teaching  should  command  our  profound 
attention,  first  as  an  indirect  yet  irresistible  evidence 
(we  should  say  manifestation)  of  his  divinity,  and 
of  his  absolute  superiority  to  all  other  teachers  ; 
and  secondly,  as  involving  a  proof,  far  better 
than  any  metaphysic  demonstration  could  be,  of  the 
interior  consistency  of  the  benignity  and  justice  of 
God.  The  more  we  meditate  upon  this  subject  the 
more  shall  \ve  be  convinced  that  it  furnishes  all  we 
ought  anxiously  to  wish  for  in  the  way  of  explication 
of "ti)e  Divine  attributes.  He  in  whom  were  concen- 
trated these  very  attribues — He  whose  purity  was  the 
purity  of  God,  and  whose  compassion  was  the  com- 
passion of  God,  is  heard  to  utter,  in  one  and  the  same 
breath,  the  language  of  inflexible  Justice  and  of  abso- 
lute Love.  Holiness  and  benevolence  then  are  one; 
and  we  should  be  content  to  confide  implicitly  in  such 
a  proof  that  they  are  so. 

But  we  must  now  turn  from  the  Master  to  his 
Disciples. 

There  may  fairly  be  room  to  ask  whether,  after  their 
Master  had  left  them, and  when  they  became  the  objects 
of  the  fury  of  their  countrymen,  and  entered  fresh  upon 
a  field  of  extraordinary  excitements,  the  first  disciples 


NOT    FANATICAL. 


325 


maintained  meekness  and  charity  of  temper;  or 
yielded  to  those  emotions  which  similar  circumstances 
have  too  often  awakened.  A  question  like  this  must 
be  determined,  not  by  the  formal  testimony  of  the 
parties  in  their  own  cause ;  but  by  inferences  drawn 
from  incidental  allusions,  or  casual  expressions.  And 
is  it  credible  that  a  company  of  men  really  exorbitant 
in  their  modes  of  thinking,  and  gloomy  or  malign  in 
their  tempers,  should  hand  down  to  posterity  a  collec- 
tion of  memoirs  and  letters,  such  as  shall  convey  no 
indication  of  the  passions  that  were  working  in  their 
bosoms  ?  This  were  indeed  the  greatest  of  miracles, 
and  we  reject,  without  scruple,  the  supposition  that  it 
might  be  true. 

As  in  the  eye  of  irreligious  men  any  degree  of  feel- 
ing in  matters  of  religion  is  enthusiasm,  so  must  tho 
same  persons  deem  any  sort  of  zeal  in  the  propaga- 
tion of  it  fanatical.  If  it  be  enthusiasm  to  pray,  it  is 
certainly  fanaticism  to  travel  from  city  to  city,  troub- 
ling men's  minds  by  announcements  of  future  judgment; 
and  how  much  more  fanatical,  to  encounter  stripes 
and  imprisonments  in  such  a  course,  or  actually  to 
meet  a  violent  death,  rather  than  abandon  the  enter- 
prise of  converting  mankind  to  a  system  of  opinions  ! 
If  now  it  be  enthusiastic  for  a  man  to  account  the 
service  and  w^orship  of  God  the  main  business  of  his 
life,  unquestionably  the  course  of  conduct  pursued  by 
the  first  propagators  of  the  Gospel,  as  well  as  by  all 
who  have  since  trodden  in  their  steps,  was  preposter- 
ous. But  if  the  Gospel  be  indeed  from  Heaven,  our 
estimation  of  men  and  things  must  obey  another  rule. 
In  this  case  it  must  be  granted,  that  whatever  might 
be  the  immediate  consequences  of  the  agitations  they 
excited,  and  even  although  the  public  tranquility  was 
much  disturbed  in  all  quarters  of  the  Roman  empire 
by  their  preaching,  nevertheless  the  pertinacious  zeal 
of  the  apostles  was  strictly  reasonable,  and  their  for- 
titude and  courage  in  the  best  sense  magnanimous. 
There  still  however  remains  a  question  which  may  be 

29 


326 


RELIGION    OF    THE    BIBLE 


m 


prosecuted  even  after  this  general  admission  has  been 
made,  namely,  whether  the  apostles  and  their  com- 
panions, in  fulfilhng  the  extraordinary  part  assigned  to 
them,  at  all  forgot  personal  moderation,  charity,  and 
benevolence ;  or  do  we  find  them,  when  placed  in 
circumstances  of  peculiar  excitement,  acrimonious, 
vindictive,  ungovernable  ?  In  a  word,  is  their  lan- 
guage and  conduct  that  of  fanatics,  or  such  only  as 
well  became  good  and  honest  men,  commissioned  to 
establish  in  the  world,  at  any  cost  to  themselves,  the 
great  principles  of  piety  ? 

The  hour  of  trial  for  the  temper  of  the  disciples  of 
Christ  was  when,  after  having  got  possession  of  the 
popular  favour,  it  rested  with  themselves  either  to  fan 
the  kindling  flame  of  national  feeling,  and  turn  it  vin- 
dictively upon  the  rulers  (a  course  which  evidently 
these  rulers  apprehended  as  probable*)  or  to  avail 
themselves  of  the  attention  they  then  commanded, 
for  the  purpose  of  enforcing  the  spiritual  objects  of 
their  ministry.  If  the  readiness  of  the  Jewish  rabble, 
at  this  period,  to  obey  every  violent  impulse  be  con- 
sidered, and  it  be  recollected  too,  that  the  apostles 
were  themselves  men  of  the  lower  class,  and  destitute 
of  motives  of  policy,  and  moreover,  very  lately,  like 
their  countrymen,  filled  with  expectations  of  secular 
aggrandizement; — if  we  bear  in  mind  that  Peter, 
James,  and  John,  the  rustics  of  Galilee,  were,  only 
a  few  weeks  before  the  day  of  Pentecost,  dreaming  of 
temporal  dignities — palaces  and  regal  splendour,  we 
are  then  qualified  to  estimate  fairly  the  language  held 
by  them  when  surrounded  by  the  thousands  of  the 
people  that  thronged  the  precincts  of  the  temple. 
Not  only  do  we  find  no  tampering  with  the  national 
passions  of  the  multitude,  but  the  tide  of  feeling  was 
sent  in  upon  every  man's  personal  sense  of  guilt ; — the 
the  most  effectual  of  all  means  this,  of  assuaging 

*  "  Behold,  ye  have  filled  Jerusalem  with  your  doctrine,  and  intend 
io  bring  this  man's  blood  upon  us,"    Acts  v.  28. 


NOT    FANATICAL. 


327 


tumultuous  excitements.  Nor  were  even  the  just 
feelings  of  indignation  worked  upon  by  the  use  of 
acrimonious  terms.  On  the  contrary,  the  most  indul- 
gent construction  which  the  facts  admitted  was  put 
upon  the  sanguinary  act  of  those  who  had  crucified 
"  the  Holy  One — tlie  Lord  of  Glory."  *'  And  now 
brethren,"  says  Peter,  "  I  wot  that  through  ignorance 
ye  did,  as  did  also  your  rulers. — Repent,  therefore, 
and  be  converted,  that  your  sins  may  be  blotted  out. 
— For  God,  having  raised  up  his  son  Jesus,  hath  sent 
him  TO  BLESS  YOU,  in  turning  away  every  one  of  you 
from  his  iniquities.'* 

Assuredly  this  is  not  the  language  either  of  dema- 
gogues, or  of  fanatics  !  Whoever  would  affirm  it  to 
be  so  must  entertain  strange  notions  of  human  nature, 
and  be  ignorant  too  of  history.  The  demagogue 
never  extenuates  the  conduct  of  the  authorities  he  is 
aiming  to  overthrow ; — the  fanatic  does  not  bless,  but 
curse.  The  same  simplicity  of  intention,  reaching  just 
to  the  point  of  firmness  and  fidelity,  but  not  going 
beyond  it,  is  conspicuous  in  Peter's  behaviour  before 
the  rulers: — he  adhered  to  his  instructions — the 
instructions  of  heaven ;  yet  neither  defied  his  judges, 
nor  railed  upon  them  ;  but,  appealing  to  their  common 
sense,  left  himself  in  their  hands.  "  Whether  it  be 
right  in  the  sight  of  God  to  hearken  unto  you,  more 
than  unto  God,  judge  ye." 

The  pattern  of  behaviour  thus  set  by  the  apostles 
on  the  first  occurrence  of  persecution,  was  adhered  to 
in  all  those  instances  which  come  within  the  range  of 
the  canonical  history.  The  story  is  ever  the  same ; — 
on  the  one  part,  a  furious  intolerance  and  cruelty ;  on 
the  other,  firmness,  simplicity,  and  patient  endurance 
of  wrong.  Thus  it  was  that  the  protomartyr  shewed 
of  whom  he  had  learned  the  lesson  of  meekness,  when 
dying  under  the  hands  of  a  ruflian  mob,  he  exclaimed, 
"  Lord,  lay  not  this  sin  to  their  charge  ! " 

In  Luke's  memoirs  we  soon  lose  sight  of  Peter  and 
his  companions,  and  must  look  to  their  epistles  for 


328 


RELIGION    OF   THE    BIBLE 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


32^ 


evidence  on  the  question  whether,  through  a  course  of 
years,  their  spirits  remained  unhurt  by  persecutions 
and  contempt.  Was  the  patience  of  these  preachers 
at  length  worn  out ;  or  did  they  become  as  they  grew 
old,  captious  and  imperious,  within  the  church ;  and 
turbulent  and  morose  without  it  ?  It  is  natural  to 
turn  first  to  the  epistles  of  Peter,  both  on  account  of 
his  official  preeminence  in  the  apostolic  college,  and 
because  the  impetuosity  of  temper  which  the  evangelic 
narrative  attributes  to  him,  would  make  it  probable 
that,  if  any  of  the  twelve  overstepped  the  line  of 
meekness  and  moderation,  he  would  be  the  one. 

Whatever  difference  of  spirit  may  present  itself  in 
comparing  the  evangelic  history  of  Peter's  early  con- 
duct with  the  writings  that  convey  the  sentiments  of 
his  matured  mind,  this  alteration  ought  to  be  attributed 
to  the  gradual  influence  of  the  system  of  opinions  he 
had  embraced ;  and  if  we  arc  asking.  What  was  the 
tendency  of  that  system  1  nothing  can  be  more  fair 
than  to  mark  its  operation  upon  a  mind  so  peculiarly 
susceptible  of  strong  excitements.  Thus  for  example, 
if,  notwithstanding  the  existence  of  certain  formal 
precepts  of  a  contrary  aspect,  the  real  operation  of 
Christianity  had  been  of  a  kind  to  cherish  contuma- 
cious, ambitious,  or  virulent  dispositions,  nothing  could 
have  prevented  the  display  of  that  result,  after  it  had 
been  ripened  by  the  various  occasions  and  trials  of 
thirty  years.  Chief  of  the  new  sect,  and  distinguished 
among  his  colleagues  by  the  delegation  to  his  hands  of 
certain  awful  powers,  Peter,  vehement  and  heady, 
would  have  become  arrogant,  jealous  in  the  defence 
of  his  supremacy,  and  (like  prelates  of  after  ages)  a 
strenuous  asserter  of  apostolic  authority.  This  we 
say,  must  infallibly  have  happened,  human  nature 
being  the  same  in  that  age  as  in  every  other,  if  the 
natural  operation  of  common  motives  had  not  been 
effectively  counteracted  by  the  system  to  which  this 
ardent  spirit  was  devoted.  It  is  in  fact,  a  circum- 
-fitance  highly  remarkable,  that  neither  of  the  epistles 


of  Peter  contains  the  slightest  allusion  to  the  special 
distinction  conferred  upon  him  by  his  Master;  nor 
indeed  any  general  assertion  of  the  sovereign  dignity 
of  the  apostolic  office.  Humility  itself  breathes  its 
sweetness  in  that  one  passage  which  refers  to  pastoral 
power.*  Or  if  we  do  not  feel  *at  once  the  full  force 
of  this  proof  of  the  meekness  and  simplicity  that  the 
Gospel  engendered,  let  us  place  these  epistles  by  the 
side  of  some  specimens  of  episcopal  letters,  belonging 
to  the  second  and  third  centuries. 

We  well  know  what  are  those  points  of  collision 
that  bring  fire  from  the  soul  of  the  fanatic: — the 
power  and  cruelty  of  the  oppressor  he  can  speak  of 
only  in  terms  of  sympathetic  rancour.  But  it  was  not 
thus  that  Peter  refers  to  the  authorities  under  which 
Christians  had  already  suffered  the  most  exasperating 
injuries ;  nor  was  it  in  any  such  mood  that  he  laid 
down  the  rule  of  patience  in  tribulation,  wrongfully 
inflicted.  It  is  quite  certain — or  as  certain  as  any 
moral  evidence  founded  on  the  constant  laws  of  the 
moral  world  can  make  it — That  the  aged  writer  of  the 
two  epistles  in  question  had  not  received  an  aggrava- 
tion of  the  native  faults  of  his  character  from  Christ- 
ianity ;  but  on  the  contrary,  that  these  tendencies 
were  corrected,  nay  dispelled  by  its  operation.  Evi- 
dence of  this  sort  can  never  approach  nearer  to 
conclusiveness  than  it  does  in  the  instance  before  us ; 
and  we  hesitate  not  to  draw  from  it  an  absolute 
historic  inference — That  the  Gospel,  such  aa  it  v:as  in 
the  age  of  Feter,  had  no  malign  or  fanatical  quality. 

*  "  Your  Presbyters  I  exhort,  who  am  a  fellow-presbyter,  &c.  .  . . 
Keep  the  fold  of  God— exercising  the  episcopal  office  not  from  com- 
pulsion ;  but  readily  and  piously,  koltoc,  6toi '  neither  from  sordid 
motives ,  but  in  the  spirit  of  fervour ;  nor  yet  as  domineering  over  the 
heritage  (t£v  xAtj^^^v)."— Thus  speaks  the  "Prince  of  the  Apostlea" 
—the  "  Vicar  of  Christ"— the  "  holder  of  the  keys"— the  "  first  Sove- 
reign Pontiff;"— yes,  the  leader  of  the  Popes  !— and  the  predecessor 
of  the  Gregorys,  the  Innocents,  the  Leos,  the  Alexanders,  of  Rome  ! 

A  style  tar  more  becoming  to  ghostly  lords  than  that  of  the  Apostle 
was  very  soon  adopted  by  Church  dignitaries,  a  sample  of  which  will 
properly  be  adduced  on  a  future  occasion. 

29* 


H 


r 

i 


330 


RELIGION   OF  THE   BIBLE 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


331 


A  very  peculiar  style,  and  a  peculiar  spirit  too, 
distinguish  the  Epistle  of  James.  Besides  the  vigour, 
spirit,  and  simple  majesty  of  the  language,  which 
carries  us  back  to  the  age  of  the  prophets,  there  is, 
throughout  it,  a  bold  and  strait-forward  good  sense 
that  scatters  at  a  stroke  the  pretexts  of  hypocrisy,  and 
the  illusions  of  religious  conceit.  This  venerable 
writer  enters  the  Church,  scourge  in  hand,  to  drive 
thence  those  corruptions  which  most  readily  find  a 
lodgment  under  sacred  roofs.  Nevertheless  the  mode 
of  reproof,  and  its  terms,  bespeak  affection,  as  much 
as  fidelity.  James  is  severe,  or  rather  penetrating ; 
but  not  acrid  or  virulent.  Especially  he  assails  the 
characteristic  faults  of  the  Jewish  mind — the  religious 
arrogance,  presumption,  and  laxity  ; — the  asperity  of 
mutual  crimination,  and  that  disposition  (so  remark- 
able in  this  people,  and  the  parent  of  faction)  to 
assume,  individually,  a  vindictive  and  intolerant  juris- 
diction over  other  men's  conduct  and  opinions.  If 
among  the  Jewish  converts,  as  is  probable  from  other 
evidence,  the  bad  passions  that  infest  spurious  piety 
were  then  making  their  appearance  in  the  infant 
Church,  this  apostolic  writer  at  once  discerned  the 
incipient  mischief,  and  employed  all  his  energy  for  its 
^exposure  and  repression. 

The  pretexts  of  hollow  piety  are  the  main  subjects 
of  the  epistle  of  James ;  but  a  single  passage,  of  a 
different  purport,  catches  the  eye,  in  which  the  ene- 
mies of  the  Gospel  are  brought  under  rebuke.  "  Go 
to  now,  ye  rich  men,  weep  and  howl  for  your 
miseries  that  shall  come  upon  you. — Ye  have  con- 
demned and  killed  the  just,  and  he  doth  not  resist 
you."  If  this  commination  be  viewed  in  a  general 
light  only,  as  applicable  to  all  instances  of  oppressive 
arrogance,  it  will  come  under  the  rule  that  is  applica- 
ble to  very  many  passages  of  the  Scriptures,  in  which 
God,  the  Friend  and  Avenger  of  the  poor  and  needy, 
utters,  by  the  mouth  of  the  prophet,  the  fierceness  of 
his  displeasure  against  the  proud  and  the  rapacious : — 


the  style,  the  terms,  and  the  matter  of  blame,  are 
altogether  in  harmony  with  what  w^e  find  so  frequently 
in  Jeremiah,  Ezekiel,  and  the  minor  prophets.  This 
language  then,  of  stern  condemnation,  is  not  to  be 
attributed  to  the  wrileras  characteristic  of  his  personal 
dispositions,  until  we  have  disproved  his  claim  to  be 
considered  as  the  messenger  of  Heaven. 

But  there   is  room  to  believe  that  a  more  special 
reference  is  contained  in  the   passage.     The  epistle 
was  written,  as  it  seems,  a  few  years  only  (not  more 
than  eight)   before  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem,  and 
at  a  lime  when,  forewarned  as  they  had  been  by  the 
Lord,  and   probably  in  a  manner  more  explicit  than 
appears  in  the  Gos{)els,  the  Apostles  could  entertain 
no  doubt  of  ihe  near  approach  of  the  awful  catastro- 
phe of  the  nation.     The  signs  of  the  coming  desola- 
tion, were  then  gathering  upon  the  heavens. — James, 
head  of  the  Church  at  Jerusalem,  and  constantly  resi- 
dent there,  could  not  look  upon  the  infatuated  Rulers 
of  the  people  without  descrying,  as  if  inscribed  upon 
the  front  of  their  pride  and  sumptuous  magnificence, 
the  divine  sentence  of  reprobation,  which  so  soon  was 
to  take  effect. — He  beheld  these  men  adding  to  all 
their  other  crimes,  the  deeper  guilt  of  rejecting  the 
Messiah,  and  of  persecuting  his  followers. — How  then 
could  he  be  silent  when  he  saw  Christians  themselves, 
with  a  servile    easiness,    flattering  the  very  persons 
upon  whom  the  wrath  of  Heaven  was  just  about  to 
alight  f — Do  not,  he  asks,  these  same  arrogant  chiefs 
oppress  you,  and  draw  you  before  the  judgment  seats? 
and  is  it  in  deference  even  to  your  persecutors,  that 
ye  despise  the  poor,  and  thrust  him  down  in  your 
assemblies  to  the   place  of  contempt  ? — What  is  this 
but  implicitly  to  take  part  with  the  enemies  of  Christ, 
against  yourselves?     The  disposition  to  pay  court  to 
the  profligate  and  cruel  masters  of  Israel  must  be 
checked ; — and  it  is  effectively  checked  in  the  passage 
which  announces  the  unparalleled  miseries  that  soon 
after  fell  upon  the  Jewish  people.     And  yet  the  infer- 


f**! 


332 


RELIGION    OF    THE    BIBLE 


NOT    FANATICAL. 


333 


ence  urged  upon  Christians  is  one  of  forbearance,  not 
of  revenge.  "Be  ye  also  patient,  stablish  your  hearts; 
for  the  coming  of  the  Lord  draweth  nigh."  And  it 
was  an  inference  too  of  peace  and  kindness  among 
themselves.  "Grudge  not  one  against  another, 
brethren,  lest  ye  be  condemned. — Behold  the  Judge 
standeth  before  the  door." 

The  severity  of  Jude,  like  that  of  James,  is  aimed, 
not  at  the  mass  of  mankind,  but  at  the  Christian  com- 
munity itself,  and  employed  chiefly  to  expose  and 
condemn  those  very  disorders  whence  fanaticism  takes 
its  rise.  There  had  "  crept  in  unawares"  among  the 
Christians,  men,  not  only  of  dissolute  lifp,  but  of  vain, 
turbulent,  and  factious  dispositions,  who  "despised 
dominion — spoke  evil  of  dignities,  and  of  things  they 
understood  not" — who,  from  the  wildness  and  un- 
profitable exorbitancy  of  their  minds,  were  not  unfitly 
described  as  "  clouds  without  water,  carried  about  of 
winds ;  raging  waves  of  the  sea,  foaming  out  their 
own  shame  ;  wandering  stars,  to  whom  is  reserved  the 
blackness  of  darkness  for  ever."  These  men  were 
"  separatists"  also,  and  seem  to  have  wanted  little  or 
nothing  which  might  entitle  them  to  rank  with  the 
most  virulent  or  debauched  of  those  who  afterwards 
made  the  name  of  Jew  a  shame  and  terror  through 
the  world.  It  is  manifest  that  the  Jewish  fanaticism, 
which  was  then  fast  reaching  its  height,  spread  itself 
by  contagion  within  the  precincts  of  the  primitive 
church :  this  was  only  natural.  All  we  have  to  do 
with  is  the  treatment  which  the  incursive  evil  received 
from  the  Apostles.  On  this  point  the  short  epistle  of 
Jude  affords  the  most  satisfactory  evidence. — Is  it 
severe  ?  yes,  but  the  occasion  was  urgent ;  for  there 
seemed  not  a  little  danger  lest,  by  its  mere  proximity, 
the  Christian  body  should  be  drawn  into  the  vortex  of 
the  national  frenzy,  and  swallowed  in  the  whirlpool 
of  its  guilt  and  ruin.  Yet  if  Jude  be  severe,  where 
severity  was  necessary,  he  forgot  not,  as  passionate 
reprovers  so  often  do,  discrimination  and  tenderness* 


"Of  some,"  says  he,  "have  compasc'on,  making  a 
difference :  and  others  save  with  fear,  plucking  them 
out  of  the  fire."  The  fanatic  deals  rather  in  sweeping 
condemnations. 

Although  it  may  seem  peculiarly  superfluous  to 
prove  that  the  writings  of  John  are  of  mild  and 
benign  tendency,  yet  there  is  a  ground  on  which  even 
these  may  properly  come  under  our  examination.  It 
is  well  known  that  very  serious  corruptions  have  often 
sprung  from  modes  of  thinking  apparently  the  most 
pure,  or  sublime  ; — just  as  mighty  rivers  descend  upon 
the  common  level  of  the  world  from  heights  that  over- 
look the  clouds,  and  where  there  are  no  storms  to  feed 
them.  Human  nature  will  not  wxll  bear  to  be  lifted 
to  a  stage  much  above  that  of  ordinary  motives,  or  to 
be  cut  of  from  all  correspondence  with  such  motives. 
The  dangerous  experiment  has  been  tried  a  thousand 
times,  and  has  always  failed  : — it  is  tried  anew  in  every 
age  by  lofty  enthusiastic  minds.  Now,  at  a  hasty 
glance,  it  might  seem  as  if  the  first  epistle  of  John  (u 
treatise  rather  than  an  epistle)  was  of  that  very  sort 
which  engenders  a  supramundane  or  abstracted  style 
of  piety ;  and  so,  allhoiigh  itself  free  from  rancorous 
ingredients,  might,  at  second  or  third  hand,  become 
the  source  of  unsocial  feelings.  Abstract  or  philo- 
sophic love  is  but  another  name  for  visionary  selfish- 
ness ;  so  it  has  proved  in  the  instance  of  mystics  of  all 
sects. 

But  in  such  cases  it  will  be  found  that  the  system 
of  sentiment  has  been  made  to  rest  upon  dogmas, 
metaphysic  or  abstruse,  and  hard  to  be  expressed  in 
familiar  terms. — The  "  pure  love  of  God,"  and  of  *'  all 
creatures  in  him,"  has  been  a  stagnation  of  the  soul, 
reflecting  from  its  dead  surface,  not  the  smiling  and 
various  landscape  around ;  but  the  mere  vacancy  of 
the  skies.  Has  then  the  divine  love  which  John  de- 
scribes and  recommends,  any  such  character  of  sub- 
tilty  or  refinement ;  or  does  it  rest  at  all  upon  a  theo- 
retic basis  ?   Every  reader  of  the  catholic  epistle  must 


334 


RELIGION    OF    THE    BIBLE 


NOT    FANATICAL. 


335 


confess  that  it  is  not  so.  In  the  first  place  the  singu- 
larly inartificial  structure  of  this  composition  (so  unlike 
the  elaborate  rhapsodies  of  the  mystic)  contradicts 
the  supposition,  and  so  does  the  homeliness  of  the 
style,  which,  instead  of  recommending  itself  to  the 
fastidious  taste  of  sensitive  recluses,  seems  specially 
adapted  to  the  uninslructed  class  of  readers.  But  the 
main  circumstance  of  distinction  is  this — That  the  very 
drift  of  the  whole  treatise — the  point  which,  at  all  events 
is  to  be  secured,  and  which  rises  to  view  in  each  para- 
graph, till  it  seems  a  tautology,  is,  that  no  profession  of 
love  to  God  can  for  a  moment  be  admitted  as  genuine, 
or  as  better  than  "a  lie,"  if  it  does  not  constantly  and 
consistently  prove  itself  to  include  the  love  of  benevo- 
lence towards  all  around  us.  *'  He  that  loveth  not  his 
brother  whom  he  hath  seen,  how  can  he  love  God 
whom  he  hath  not  seen?"  Now  this  plain  appeal  to 
common  sense  is  a  concise  refutation  of  the  principle 
of  mystic  religion,  which  we  find  to  be,  that  what  is 
occult,  is  always  more  worthy  than  what  is  sensible  or 
visible.  But  St.  John  makes  what  is  occult  subordinate 
to  what  is  visible.  Or  it  might  be  said  that  he  utterly 
sets  at  naught  and  spurns  all  modes  of  religious  senti- 
ment that  are  too  sublime  to  be  measured  by  the  very 
simplest  maxims  of  common  virtue.  "  My  little  chil- 
dren, let  us  not  love  in  word,  neither  in  tongue ;  but 
in  deed  and  in  truth." — Or  if  an  exhortation  so  clear 
needed  a  comment,  we  find  it  at  hand  : — "  Whoso  hath 
this  world's  good,  and  seeth  his  brother  have  need,  and 
shutteth  up  his  bowels  of  compassion  from  him,  how 
dwelleth  the  love  of  God  in  him  ?" 

The  epistle  of  John  ought  then  to  be  regarded  not 
as  a  germ  of  mysticism  :  but  on  the  contrary,  as  a 
plain  and  pointed  caution  against  every  form  of  hyper- 
bolic piety.  The  ultimate  reason  of  this  caution  is 
not  indeed  the  one  which  secular  men  will  approve  ; 
for  it  does  not  assume  all  elevated  and  intense  emo- 
tions fixed  on  unseen  objects  to  be  absurd  or  perni- 
cious.    Far  otherwise  ;  for  the  apostle  carries  the  no- 


tion of  true  piety  to  the  very  highest  point,  even  to 
that  height  of  "  perfect  love,"  which  "  casteth  out 
fear." — But  w  hile  he  does  so,  he  employs  all  his  force 
in  strengthening  the  connexion  (which  the  Mystic 
labours  to  weaken)  between  the  oflices  of  pity  and 
charity,  and  those  exalted  motives  that  should  animate 
virtue. — In  a  word,  the  religion  of  John  is  not  abstruse, 
but  intelligible  ;  not  theoretic,  but  practical  ;  not  mo- 
nastic, but  domestic  : — it  is  the  very  religion  which  the 
Soffee,  and  the  Platonist,  and  the  Pietist,  and  the  Monk, 
spurn  as  vulgar,  or  natural,  in  comparison  with  his 
own,  which  he  declares  to  be  "  celestial." 

To  the  "  beloved  disciple"  was  assigned  the  task  of 
closing  the  sacred  canon,  and  of  setting  the  apostolic 
seal  upon  the  religion  of  Christ  after  the  lapse  of  a 
period  which  saw  it  exposed  to  perils  of  every  kind. 
The  most  serious  and  fatal  corruptions  had  in  fact, 
before  the  death  of  John  connected  themselves  with 
the  new  profession,  and  had  drawn  towards  it ; — just 
as  smaller  bodies,  and  the  scum  and  the  wrecks  of 
things,  rush  into  the  wake  of  a  stately  vessel  that  rap- 
idly plows  the  waves.  Before  the  close  of  the  first 
century  there  was  much  room  to  fear  that  certain  im- 
pious and  licentious  doctrines,  bred  in  the  east,  should 
so  far  borrow  (or  rather  steal)  recommendations  from 
the  Gospel,  as  to  bring  the  Gospel  itself  into  disrepute, 
as  well  as  to  pervert  many  of  its  followers.  The  most 
decisive  measures  on  the  part  of  those  who  watched 
for  the  welfare  of  the  community,  were  absolutely 
necessary  to  preserve  the  very  existence  of  the  Church 
amid  these  dangers.  The  Gnostic,  the  Cerinthian,  and 
others  of  the  like  order,  were  to  be  deprived  of  the 
aid  and  credit  they  drew  from  the  name  of  Christ. — 
"  If  there  come  any  unto  you,  and  bring  not  the  doc- 
trine (already  known  and  authenticated)  receive  him 
not  into  your  house,  neither  bid  him  God  speed."  Sa- 
cred truth  must,  when  put  in  peril,  be  preferred  to 
courtesy  or  hospitality  ;  and  he  who  will  be  the  friend 
of  all,  at  whatever  cost,  or  by  means  of  whatever 


i 


336 


RELIGION   OF   THE    BIBLE 


compromise,  possesses  rather  the  semblance  of  charity 
than  its  substance.  We  ought,  on  this  rule,  to  keep 
in  mind  the  distinction  between  a  necessary  firmness, 
or  even  severity,  in  preserving  the  outworks  of  reli- 
gion, and  that  churlish  rigidity  which  impels  a  man 
to  become  a  sectarist.  The  first  is  known  by  its  taking 
its  stand  always  on  capital  or  primary  and  well  under- 
stood principles ; — the  second,  by  its  zeal  for  w'hatever 
is  secondary,  unimportant,  unintelligible,  and  ambigu- 
ous. 

The  most  signal  and  significant  of  the  instances  that 
belong  to  the  review  now  in  hand  remains  to  be  con- 
sidered. 

If  the  natural  disposition  of  Peter,  such  as  it  betrays 
itself  in  the  Gospels,  would  lead  us  to  look  narrowly 
to  the  turn  which  Christianity  gave  to  his  sentiments 
and  conduct,  the  temper  of  Pall,  much  more,  invites 
scrutiny,  inasmuch  as  he  makes  his  entry  upon  the 
stage  of  church  history  in  the  very  character  of  a  fan- 
atic ; — a  fanatic  too,  not  by  accident  or  external  in- 
ducement, or  secular  interest,  but  by  the  vehemence 
of  his  spirit,  and  the  original  bias  of  his  mind.  That 
the  business  of  persecution  was  undertaken  by  this  ex- 
traordinary youth  freely,  is  made  evident  by  what  we 
afterwards  see  to  have  been  his  character ;  for  Paul, 
it  is  certain,  was  no  subservient  being — no  tool,  and 
not  the  man  to  receive  direction  from  others.  Zeal  so 
furious,  in  so  young  a  bosom,  must  be  held  to  mark  the 
native  disposition ;  and  perhaps  few  of  those  who 
have  figured  on  the  ensanguined  theatre  of  religious 
cruelty — from  Antiochus  to  our  own  Bonner  or  Laud, 
would  have  been  able  to  support  their  claims  to  a 
bad  preeminence  by  the  side  of  Saul  of  Tarsus,  if  the 
dazzling  light  of  heaven  had  not  met  him  on  his  way 
to  Damascus,  and  turned  the  course  of  his  life,  as  well 
as  changed  his  heart.  The  definition  of  Fanatic  wants 
little  which  it  does  not  find  in  this  instance,  if  we  as- 
sume as  our  guide  the  brief  narrative  of  his  early  con- 
duct, as  commented  on  by  himself.     The  question  pre- 


FANATICAL. 


337 


sents  itself  then,  concerning  this  Fanatic-born — did 
Christianity  amend,  or  did  it  aggravate  his  disposition  ? 

There  are  on  record  a  few  instances  of  sudden  and 
extraordinary  conversions  which  have  passed  over  the 
moral  faculties  with  the  force  of  a  hurricane,  or  of  an 
inundation,  sweeping  away  almost  every  trace  of  what 
heretofore  had  marked  the  character : — the  man  has 
not  remained  after  the  change  what  he  was,  in  any  other 
sense  hardly  than  that  of  bare  physical  identity. — The 
warrior  and  prince,  for  example,  laying  down  his  pride, 
his  plumes,  his  schemes  of  empire,  and  his  insatiate  pas- 
sions, has  become  a  self-denying,  inane  monk ! — the 
lips  which  a  while  ago  uttered  thunders  and  made 
kingdoms  tremble,  lisp  pater-nosters  through  the  dull 
watches  of  the  night ;  and  the  eyes  that  shot  fire  in 
the  bloody  combat,  are  moistened  with  feeble  tears, 
or  peruse  the  floor  of  a  cell !  Now  it  is  especially  to 
be  noted  that  the  conversion  of  Saul  was  not  of  this 
sort ; — it  was  no  dissolution  of  nature.  If  we  had 
met  him  (uninformed  of  what  had  happened)  some 
years  after  the  change  in  his  course  of  life,  and  having 
known  him  before  it  took  place,  we  should  perhaps 
scarcely  have  divined  the  fact  from  his  manner  or  ap- 
pearance.— The  same  animation — the  same  spirit  and 
impetuosity — the  very  same  sparkle  of  the  eye ;  the 
same  indefatigable  industry  and  impatience  of  rest. 
We  should  have  seen  indeed  that  the  labours  and 
cares  of  active  life  had  marked  his  features ;  but  as- 
suredly should  not  have  said  that  the  bright  promise  of 
energy  and  intelligence  had  been  blighted,  or  had  pass- 
ed oWy  into  a  dull  and  flaccid  imbecility. 

The  narrative  contained  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles 
abundantly  proves  that  Paul's  conversion,  though  it 
turned  the  current  of  his  native  energy,  did  not  in  any 
degree  dry  it  up.  Nor  even  did  his  submission  to  the 
maxims  of  the  Gospel  (curbing  the  irascible  passions 
as  they  do)  render  him  so  tame  or  passive  in  matters 
of  civil  right  and  privilege  as  perhaps  might  have 
been  imagined.    The  instances  are  of  a  remarkable 

30 


338 


RELIGION   OF   THE   BIBLE 


kind,  and  they  serve  to  demonstrate  that,  while 
receiving  meekly  the  most  extreme  ill-treatment  which 
his  profession  of  Christianity  brought  upon  him,  and 
from  which  Roman  law  afforded  no  relief,  he  never 
lost  sight  of  any  judicial  distinction  that  might  avail  to 
skreen  him  from  lawless  rage,  or  magisterial  tyranny. 

Neither  was  Paul's  spirit  as  a  man  broken,  nor  his 
sensibilities  blunted,  nor  the  vigour  and  fine  finish  of 
his  understanding  impaired,  by  his  change  of  princi- 
ples. His  speeches  on  public  occasions  afford  con- 
vincing proof  to  the  contrary,  in  each  of  these  partic- 
ulars ;  and  when  brought  into  comparison,  one  with 
another,  present  a  very  rare  example  of  the  faculty 
which  enables  a  man  to  adapt  himself,  at  a  moment, 
to  the  prejudices  or  capacities  of  the  persons  he 
addresses :  or,  if  separately  viewed,  they  give  evi- 
dence of  the  possession  of  powers  not  often  assembled 
in  the  same  individual. — There  is  found  in  them  the 
indications  of  fire  and  sensitiveness,  conjoined  with 
self-command,  courage,  and  moderation. — There  is 
an  immoveable  attachment  to  principles,  together  with 
the  most  flexible  accommodation  of  the  mode  and 
subject  of  discourse  to  the  personal  or  national  feel- 
ings of  all  parties  ; — and  a  rare  fecundity — ^we  might 
say  exuberance  of  mind,  along  with  the  strictest 
adherence  to  the  ultimate  point  towards  which,  from 
the  first,  he  tends. 

The  actual  influence  of  Christianity,  such  as  it  was 
in  its  first  era,  is  then  subjected  to  an  experimentum 
crucis  in  the  case  of  the  Apostle  of  ihe  Gentiles.  Idle 
would  it  be  to  say — Such  and  such  dogmas  or  motives, 
belonging  to  the  Gospel,  or  implied  in  it,  and  afiirmed 
in  the  epistles  of  Paul,  could  not  fail  to  have  a  malig- 
nant or  uncharitable  influence.  In  refutation  of  any 
hypothetic  argument  of  this  sort,  we  boldly  make  our 
appeal  to  an  example  that  wants  nothing  to  render  it 
conclusive. — Christianity  found  Saul  of  Tarsus  a  fan- 
atic, both  by  temper  and  habit : — a  life  of  privations 
and  injuries  naturally  exacerbates  a  fiery  disposition, 


NOT  FANATICAL. 


339 


and  beyond  doubt,    "Paul  the  aged"    would  have 
become  one  of  the  sternest  and  most  implacable  of 
fanatics  the  world  has  seen,  if  the  system  he  embraced 
had   actually   favoured  that  order  of  feeling;  or  in 
truth,  if  it  had  not  exerted  a  mighty  efficacy   alto- 
gether^ of  an  opposite  kind.    We  turn  then,  for  a 
moment,  to  his  epistles.     And  with   our    particular 
object  in  view,  it  is  natural  to  distribute  them  in  three 
classes,  ihe  first  consisting  of  those  which  exhibit  the 
doctrines  and  duties  of  religion  in  an  abstract  form,  or 
without  specific  reference  to  parties  or  occasions.  The 
second  comprising  those  that  bear  upon  the  disorders 
or  controversies  existing  in  certain  communities  ;  and 
the  third — including  the  private  and  clerical  epistles. 
I.  Of  the  FIRST  CLASS,  the  most  general,  or  impcr- 
sonal,  is  the  epistle  to  the  Hebrews ;  and  the  fact 
which  meets  us  at  a  glance,  as  pertinent  to  our  inquiry, 
though  of  a  negative  kind,  ought  not  to  be  slighted. — 
The  elaborate  argument  of  this  treatise  is  addressed 
to  the  Jewish  converts  to  Christianity ; — now  when  a 
man  has  broken  himself  off  from   a  communion  of 
which  once  he  was  the  zealous  supporter,  and  especi- 
ally if  he  have  received  cruel  injuries  from  his  forn^er 
friends,  it  is  almost  a  constant  thing  to  find  him  casting 
contempt  upon   the  system  he  has  renounced,   and 
taking  a  position  as  remote  as  possible  from  the  one 
whence  his  irritated  opponents  assail  him.     And  why 
should  not  the  rule  hold  good  in  the  instance  before  us? 
Spurned  and  persecuted  by  the  Jewish  authorities,  and 
made  the  minister  of  an  economy  which  avowedly 
was  to  supersede  the  ancient  dispensation,  what  would 
have  been  more  natural  than  that  he  should  exult  over 
the  falling  fabric  of  the  Mosaic  law,  and  indulge  in 
the  bitterness  and  irony  common  to  controversy,  and 
especially  to  controversy  in  the  hands  of  a  renegade. 
But  in  contrariety  to  any  such  supposition,  the  epistle 
to  the  Hebrews  renders  a  homage  to  the  Mosaic  insti- 
tutions,   and  to  the  principles  and  practices  of  the 
Jewish  religion,  as  cordial  and  full,   as  could  have 


340 


KELIOION   OF   THE    BIBLE 


been  offered  bv  Gamaliel  himself.  The  difference 
between  Paul  and  Gamaliel  related  only  to  the  inten- 
tion, or  to  the  interpretation  of  the  Law,  and  its  rites. 
The  Pentateuch  sustains  no  disparagement  in  the 
hands  of  the  apostle,  who  though  he  was  preaching  to 
all  nations  an  economy  which  implies  the  abrogation 
of  that  of  Moses,  would  not  erect  the  new  upon  the 
ruins  of  the  old  ;  but  rather  builds  the  new  upon  the 
old,  as  its  immovable  foundation.  If  at  all  he  incul- 
pates the  ancient  institute,  he  does  so  only  in  compli- 
ance with  a  divine  declaration,  to  that  effect,  uttered 
long  before  : — "  If  that  first  covenant  had  been  fault- 
less, then  should  no  place  have  been  sought  for  the 
second.  For  finding  fault  with  them,  he  saith.  Behold 
the  days  come,  saith  the  Lord,  when  I  will  make  a 
new  covenant  with  the  house  of  Israel,  and  with  the 
house  of  Judah." 

And  Jf  the  author  of  this  treatise  does  not  vilify 
the  party  he  had  left,  neither  does  he  flatter  the  party 
he  had  joined ;  not  any  of  the  spite  on  the  one  side, 
nor  of  the  partiality  on  the  other  of  the  sectarist,  is 
found  in  him. — "I  have  many  things  to  say,  and  hard 
to  be  uttered,  seeing  ye  are  dull  of  hearing,  and  instead 
of  making  the  progress  which  might  have  been  expect- 
ed, have  need  to  be  taught  afresh  the  very  elements 
of  your  profession."  And  yet  this  reproof  does  not 
spring  from  a  petulance  which  will  be  always  finding 
fault,  even  with  friends  and  favourites  ;  for  the  kindest 
expressions  almost  immediately  follow.  —  "Beloved, 
we  are  persuaded  better  things  of  you  : — God  is  not 
unrighteous,  to  forget  your  work  and  labour  of  love." 

Not  to  insist  upon  several  express  admonitions  to  a 
peaceable  and  charitable  behaviour,  and  to  patience 
under  persecution,  we  may  safely  aflftrm  that  a  calm, 
erudite,  and  refined  argument,  such  as  that  of  this 
treatise,  must  be  adjudged  the  product  of  a  mind  habit- 
ually serene,  as  well  as  devout,  and  of  a  mind  which, 
even  by  the  complication  of  its  inferences,  is  proved 
to  possess  that  equipoise  of  the  understanding,  which, 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


341 


whether  original  or  acquired,  never  consists  with  the 
prevalence  of  turbulent  and  rancorous  passions. 

The  epistle  to  the  Romans,  if  in  some  respects  more 
personal  than  that  to  the  Hebrews,  is  yet,  in  the  main, 
a  theological  and  ethical  treatise,  rather  than  a  letter, 
and  is  in  the  same  way  available  as  proof  of  the  calm 
command  which  the  writer  retained  of  the  reasoning 
faculty — a  command  very  likely  to  be  lost  in  a  long 
course  of  perils,  privations,  changes  of  scene,  injuri- 
ous treatment,  and  public  labour ;  even  if  the  native 
temperament  be  tranquil,  much  more  if  it  be  suscep- 
tible of  strong  excitements.  Is  it  to  be  believed  that, 
if  the  youthful  violence  and  bigotry  of  the  writer  had 
been  kept  alive  by  Christianity,  the  combined  influence 
of  original  temper,  a  stimulating  system  of  opinions, 
and  a  life  like  that  of  the  persecuted  Paul,  would  have 
left  him,  at  sixty,  a  reasoner  such  as  he  appears  in  the 
epistle  to  the  Romans  ? 

Some  kind  of  exaggeration  or  distortion  of  the  prin- 
ciples of  virtue  characterises  always  fanaticism,  and 
belongs  to  it  under  every  modification.    If  at  any  time 
there  arise  a  controversy  between  common  sense  and 
good  morals  on  the  one  side,  and  some  exorbitant  and 
turgid  pretension  to  heroic  virtue  on  the  other,  no  such 
event  will  ever  happen  as  that  the  Fanatic  should  range 
himself  on  the  side  of  the  former,  against  the  latter  :— 
quite  otherwise,  and  as  if  by  irresistible  attraction, 
does  he  pass  over  toward  whatever  is  disproportioned, 
tumid,  enormous,  violent ;  and  as  certainly  he  assails 
whatever  is  just  and  modest.     With  a  like  certainty 
do  dense  mephitic  vapours  subside  into  caverns  and 
sepulchres;    while  inflammable  gases  mount  to   the 
upper  sky.    Now  a  controversy,  precisely  of  this  sort, 
was  abroad  in  the  age  of  the  apostles.— The  strait  and 
rigid  portion  of  the  Jewish  people  had  carried  to  the 
utmost  extreme  the  national  propensity  to  sanctimoni- 
ous pride,  in  contempt  of  every  plain  pnnciple  of 
morality.     The  Jewish  idea  of  virtue  and  piety,  at  that 
time,  might  fitly  be  compared  to  the  image  one  obtams 

30* 


342 


RELIGION   OF  THE   BIBLE 


NOT  FANATICAL. 


343 


of  a  distant  temple  or  palace,  when  seen  through  a 
knotted  and  misshapen  lens : — high  and  low  are  re- 
versed ;  the  pinnacles  seem  to  prop  the  columns ; — 
the  foundations  are  heaved  aloft ; — chasms  gape  in  the 
midst ; — every  line  is  broken,  and  the  wings  are  dis- 
joined from  the  body.  In  what  manner  then  did 
Paul  assail  these  illusions  ?  Not  as  a  fanatic  of  some 
adverse  school  might  have  done,  by  opposing  one  ex- 
travagance to  another.  But  (as  we  actually  find  in 
the  first  three  chapters  of  the  epistle  to  the  Romans) 
by  leading  the  minds  of  men  back,  in  the  most  vigorous 
style  of  reprobatory  eloquence,  to  the  great  principles 
of  justice,  continence,  temperance,  and  piety.  After 
solemnly  asserting  the  righteous  government  of  God, 
with  what  force  does  he  bring  home  the  unquestioned 
maxims  of  law  upon  the  seared  pride  of  the  licentious 
and  self-complacent  Jew! — "Behold,  thou  art  called 
a  Jew,  and  restest  in  the  law,  and  makest  thy  boast  of 
God  ! — through  breaking  of  the  law  dishonourest  thou 
God? — Thou  teacher  of  the  law,  dost  thou  steal,  com- 
mit adultery,  and  sacrilege  ?" — This,  we  say,  is  sound 
reason,  opposed  to  corruption,  evasions  and  perversity ; 
and  it  carries  ample  proof  of  the  integrity  of  the 
writer's  understanding. 

But  there  is  a  test  of  character  which  yet  remains 
to  be  sought  for.  Does  then  Paul  use  truth  and  reason 
as  mere  instruments  of  violence  in  assailing  an  adver- 
sary ?  (for  this  is  sometimes  seen)  does  he  drive  with 
indiscriminate  fury  over  the  ground,  sweeping  all  things 
before  him,  good  and  bad  ? — In  stripping  his  mistaken 
countrymen  of  their  cloak  of  lies,  does  he  rend  away 
their  garment  also — their  genuine  advantage  ?  It  is 
not  so.  After  bringing  his  arraignment  of  national 
casuistry  to  a  just  conclusion — a  conclusion  utterly 
foreign  to  the  modes  of  thinking  then  in  vogue — 
namely,  That  the  true  circumcision  "is  that  of  the 
heart,  in  the  spirit,  and  not  in  the  letter,  whose  praise 
is  not  of  men  but  of  God  ;"  he  takes  up  instantly  the 
opposite  position,  which  might  seem  to  have  been  en- 


dangered, and  becomes  himself  the  advocate  of  Jewish 
distinctions,  so  far  as  they  were  valid.    "  What  advan- 
tage then  hath  the  Jew  ?  or  what  profit  is  there  of 
circumcision  ?— much  every  way."    This  is  precisely 
the  course  of  moderation ;— this  is  that  gathering  up 
of  an  argument  on  all  sides,  which  a  wise  and  tempe- 
rate man,  who  is  labouring  only  for  truth,  will  take 
care  not  to  leave  another  to  do  for  him.     If  this  is  to 
be  deemed  the  stylo,  of  the  inflated  and  acrimonious 
Fanatic,  or  of  the  partisan  and  bigot,  we  must  give  up 
every  attempt  to  establish  distinctions,  and  must  grant 
that  all  moral  characteristics  are  nugatory.     Let  us 
only  imagine  ourselves  to  have  heard  the  young  Saul 
disputing  against  Christianity  with  his  comrades,  on 
his  road  to  Damascus  ;  can  we  suppose  that  his  argu- 
ment would  have  been  balanced  in  any  such  equitable 
manner  ?     It  is  conspicuous  and  unquestionable  that 
the  Gospel,  such  as  Paul  found  it,  instead  of  fomenting 
in  any  way  the  natural  intolerance  of  his  temper,  had 
actually  restored  the  equilibrium  of  his  mind,  and  had 
taught  the  zealot  to  be  just ! 

To  prove  that  all  men  stand  on  the  very  same 
level  of  guilt  in  the  righteous  estimation  of  the  Impar- 
tial Judge,  is  an  argument  the  fanatic  lets  alone,  if  he 
does  not  impugn  it.— We  shall  never  see  him  equaliz- 
ing pretensions  of  all  sorts,  in  language  such  as  follows. 

"  What  then,  are  we  better  than  they  ?     No,  m  no 

wise  ;  for  we  have  before  proved,  both  Jews  and  Gen- 
tiles, that  they  are  all  under  sin.— All  are  gone  out  of 
the  way — have  become  unprofitable  ; — there  is  none 
that  doeth  good— no,  not  one  !"  This  doctrine  the 
fanatic  places  on  some  other  ground  than  that  of  the 
universal  principles  of  morality,  and  he  always  ap- 
pends  to  it  some  saving  clause  or  evasion,  such  as 
shall  turn  aside  from  himself  its  humbling  inference. 

But  if,  in  Paul's  account,  condemnation  be  universal, 
grace  is  so  too,  at  least  in  its  aspect  toward  mankind, 
and  in  its  proposals.— As  there  is  no  diflference  m  guilt, 
so  is  there  none,  either  in  the  conditions  of  pardon,  or 


<<'i 


344 


RELIGION  OF  THE   BIBLE 


in  the  eligibility  of  men  to  the  Divine  Favour.  "  Is 
God  the  God  of  the  Jews  only  ?  Is  he  not  of  the  Gen- 
tiles also  ?  Yes,  of  the  Gentiles  also."  And  it  is  now 
true,  as  the  same  writer  expresses  it  in  another  place, 
that,  under  the  banner  of  Christ,  there  are  no  exclu- 
sions and  no  peculiarities. — "  Greek  and  Jew,  barbar- 
ian, Scythian,  bond  and  free,  are  all  one  in  Christ 
Jesus :"  or  to  use  the  equivalent  language  of  another 
Apostle — That  God  puts  no  HiflTfirence  between  man 
and  man ; — is  no  respecter  of  persons ;  but  that  "  in 
EVERY  nalTion  he  that  feareth  God,  and  worketh  right- 
eousness is  accepted  of  him." — Bright  expansion  of 
heavenly  glory  !  Welcome  news  from  on  high  !  with 
emphasis  may  we  say,  in  hearing  this  canon  of  grace 
— "  The  true  light  now  shineth  !"  But  what  we  have 
specifically  to  do  with  is  this  only — That  the  men 
who  spent  all  their  strength  as  preachers  and  writers 
in  promulgating  such  a  doctrine,  and  in  an  age  too 
such  as  the  one  they  actually  lived  in,  were  assuredly 
no  fanatics.  And  let  it  be  told  that  these  preachers 
of  universal  good-will  were  not  Grecian  sages,  but 
Jews  ; — Jews  born  and  bred  in  the  very  ferment  of 
bigotry.  Moreover  the  most  conspicuous  of  this  band 
of  innovators  burst  upon  the  world  in  the  very  cha- 
racter of  a  sanguinary  zealot — *'  a  Hebrew  of  the  He- 
brews"—  a  sanctimonious  Pharisee  —  and  by  early 
propensity  "  a  persecutor  and  injurious." — We  loudly 
defy  contradiction  in  affirming  then,  That  Christianity, 
such  as  the  Apostles  held  it,  was  not  fanatical. 

As  matter  of  argument  it  must  be  deemed  quite 
superfluous,  and  yet  as  matter  of  impression  it  might 
be  proper,  to  adduce  the  preceptive  and  concluding 
portions  of  this  same  epistle  to  the  Romans  in  proof  of 
the  symmetry  and  completeness  of  that  moral  code 
which  the  writer  promulgates  or  enforces.  And  after 
doing  so,  we  should  be  entitled  to  the  inference,  on  an- 
other ground,  that  he  was  no  fanatic  ; — for  the  fanatic 
never  fails  to  exaggerate  or  deform  morality,  on  the 
one  side,  or  on  the  other.  We  must  not  however  omit 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


345 


to  mention  (for  it  is  of  peculiar  importance)  the  deci- 
sive assertion  of  the  duty  of  submitting  to  civil  powers 
that  occurs  in  the  13th  chapter  of  this  epistle.  Taking 
with  us  our  modern  anxious  notions  of  civil  liberty, 
we  might  perhaps  covet  to  find  in  this  noted  passage, 
some  exception  made  in  favour  of  popular  rights.    Be 
this  desire  reasonable  or  not,  it  is  certain  that  so  full 
and  clear  a  statement  of  the  relative  duty  of  magistrate 
and  subject,  in  favour  of  the  former,  is  in  a  high  degree 
remarkable,  as  coming  from  a  man  who,  through  a 
long  course  of  years,  had  endured  all  sorts  of  wrongs 
from  the  "  powers  that  then  were"— both  Jewish  and 
Roman.     No  exasperation,  it  is  evident,  had  grown  as 
a  habit  upon  the  writer's  mind.     He  did  not  (fanatic- 
like)  seek    to   revenge   himself  upon   dignities   and 
thrones,  by  sapping,  in  the  opinions  of  the  infant  sect, 
the  foundations  of  political  obedience.     In  later  ages 
it  is  hard  to  find,  among  the  persecuted,  parallel  in- 
stances of  forbearance. 

If  Christians  of  every  age  had  but  paid  deference 
to  it,  the  14th  chapter  of  this  epistle  contains,  withm 
the  compass  of  a  few  verses,  a  comprehensive  refuta- 
tion of  every  pretext  of  religious  faction,  whether 
urged  by  the  refractory,  or  by  the  despotic  party.  The 
simplest  principles  are  always  those  which  mankmd 
are  the  slowest  to  learn.  It  has  been  so  in  philosophy ; 
—it  has  been  so  in  the  business  of  civil  government ; 
—and  it  is  so  in  matters  of  religion.  A  doctrine  which, 
when  expressed  at  large,  seems  too  trite  or  obvious  to 
be  formally  announced,  and  which  asks  no  proof,  is 
the  very  point  that  the  perversity  of  the  human  mind 
evades  or  shuns.     To  whatever  causes  the  pertinacity 
of  sectarism  may  be  attributed  (a  question  foreign  to 
our  subject)  it  remains  certain  that  Christianity,  as 
taught  by  the  Apostles,  is  wholly  guiltless  of  the  mis- 
chief.    The  chapter  just  named,  and  another  oMike 
import,*  abundantly  refute  the  calumny  that  the  Reli- 

♦  1  Cor.  xiii. 


346 


RELIGION   OP   THE   BIBLE 


gion  of  Christ  is  generative  of  discords.  The  wit  of 
man  could  devise  no  cautionary  provision  against  such 
evils  more  complete,  more  conclusive,  or  more  perspic- 
uous, than  the  one  we  here  find.  Precept,  argument, 
instruction,  have  done  their  utmost.  With  what  fresh- 
ness  and  vigour  do  good  sense  and  charity  breathe  com- 
bined in  every  phrase  and  verse  of  this  chapter !  If  we 
have  been  wading  through  the  noisome  quags  of  church 
squabbles  (ancient  or  modern)  the  effect  upon  the 
mind  of  turning  to  this  passage — bright  and  clear,  is 
like  that  of  escaping  from  a  pestilential  swamp,  where 
we  were  tormented  by  the  musquito,  to  a  hill-top  on 
which  the  gales  are  pure,  the  sky  clear,  and  the  pros- 
pect unbounded  !  To  quote  any  single  verse  of  the 
chapter,  apart  from  its  context,  were  a  damage ;  for 
the  whole  is  closely  woven  together  in  conformity  with 
the  genuine  rules  of  natural  and  manly  eloquence.  It 
only  remains  to  rpmind  thfi  rpader  (after  he  has  turned 
to  the  passage)  of  the  conclusion — That  the  writer  of 
the  epistle,  whatever  might  have  been  his  temper  in 
early  life,  was  no  fanatic  at  the  time  when  he  address- 
ed the  Christians  of  Rome. 

Evidence  to  the  same  effect,  both  of  a  negative  and 
positive  kind,  might  be  drawn  from  the  epistles  to  the 
churches  at  Ephesus  and  at  Colosse.  Besides  the 
purity  and  simplicity  of  the  ethical  portions  of  these 
letters,  which  bespeak  a  sound  and  tranquil  mind,  the 
only  special  points  to  be  adverted  to,  are  the  explicit 
assertion  in  both  epistles,  of  the  equalization  of  religious 
privileges,  and  the  nullity  of  those  exclusive  preten- 
sions on  which  the  Jew  founded  his  contempt  of  the 
bulk  of  mankind. — "Christ,"  says  the  Apostle,  "is  our 
peace,  who  hath  made  Jew  and  Gentile  one,  having 
broken  down  the  middle  wall  of  partition." — Again : 
"  Ye  therefore  are  no  more  strangers  and  foreigners ; 
but  fellow-citizens  with  the  saints,  and  of  the  house- 
hold of  God."  We  find  also  in  the  epistle  to  the 
Colossians  a  very  remarkable  (shall  we  ssiy  a  prophetic) 
caution  against  that  spirit  of  mingled  superstition  and 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


347 


fanaticism^ — of  presumption  and  servility,  which  so 
soon  made  its  appearance  in  the  Church,  and  rapidly 
spread,  and  actually  held  its  sway,  undisputed,  more 
than  a  thousand  years.  The  voluntary  {or  artificial) 
humiliations — ^the  worshipping  of  angels — the  sancti- 
monious abstinences — the  human  traditions — the  spe- 
cious piety,  and  the  idle  tormenting  of  the  body ;  in  a 
word,  all  the  elements  of  the  great  apostacy  are  here 
designated  in  the  most  distinct  manner ;  or  as  if  the 
many-coloured  corruptions  of  the  tenth  century  had 
vividly  passed  before  the  eye  of  the  writer.  How 
sound  and  healthy  is  that  piety  and  that  morality 
which  he  recommends  in  opposition  to  all  such  absurd- 
ities ! 

II.  We  turn  next  to  those  of  the  epistles  of  Paul 
which,  in  a  more  direct  manner,  are  personal  commu- 
nications from  the  writer  to  the  parties  addressed,  and 
which,  as  they  relate  to  local  controversies,  disagree- 
ments, or  partialities,  rife   at  the  moment,  may  be 
expected  to  exhibit  more  of  the  writer's  sensitiveness 
than  a  bare  theological  treatise,  or  a  hortatory  letter 
is  likely  to  display.     The  genuine  character  and  dis- 
positions of  an  author  naturally  become  most  conspi- 
cuous on  those  occasions  when  he  is  wrought  upon  by 
personal  feelings.     Six  of  the  Pauline  epistles  come 
under  this  description ;  and  we  first  advert  to  those 
that  are  altogether  of  an  amicable  kind,  and  embody 
the  writer's  lively  affection  to  two  favoured  societies. 
The  epistle  "to  the  faithful  at  Philippi"  is  a  warm 
expression  of  feeling,  such  as  is  proper  to  an  endeared 
personal  friendship,  resting  on  the  basis  of  a  thorough 
confidence.    The  tenderness  and  the  graciousness  that 
pervade  it  are  much  to  our  present  purpose ;  and  so 
is  that  spirit  of   lofty   and   fervent   piety  which  it 
breathes ;  for  these  are  conclusive  proof  of  what  the 
influence  of  Christianity  was  in  its  pristine  era.     But 
we  shall  pause  only  at  certain  specific  indications  of 
the  temper  of  the  writer.     The  first  of  these  is  of  an 
extr5U)rdinary  sort,  and  may  appear  to  contradict  the 


348 


RELIGION    OP   THE    BIBLE 


supposition,  drawn  from  other  sources,  that  the 
apostles  maintained  the  honours  of  their  high  function 
by  a  stern  and  efficacious  rebuke  of  factious  proceed- 
ings. But  the  truth  seems  to  be  that,  although  on 
urgent  occasions,  and  when  they  had  to  deal  hand  to 
hand  with  the  contumacious  sectarist  or  pernicious 
heretic,  they  used  with  promptitude  "the  power  which 
the  Lord  had  given  them,"  their  native  feelings,  abhor- 
rent of  the  despotic  and  jealous  course  customary  with 
spiritual  dignities,  restrained  them  from  employing 
penal  powers,  if  by  any  means  it  could  be  avoided. 
What  Paul's  inner  dispositions  were  in  relation  to 
contentious  or  ambitious  zealots,  we  here  perceive. — 
"  Some  indeed  preach  Christ  even  of  envy  and  strife 
— of  contention,  not  sincerely,  supposing  (intending) 
to  add  affliction  to  my  bonds. — What  then  ?  notwith- 
standing every  way,  whether  in  pretence  or  in  truth, 
Christ  is  preached,  and  I  therein  do  rejoice,  yea,  and 
will  rejoice  ! "  Can  this  be  the  language  of  the  man 
who,  some  thirty  years  before,  had  been  seen  raging 
up  and  down  through  the  streets  of  Jerusalem,  and 
cramming  its  dungeons  with  innocent  women  and 
children  1  Christianity  truly  had  done  his  temper  no 
harm  in  the  interval ! 

In  personal  conflict  with  these  vexatious  dema- 
gogues, Paul  might  perhaps,  from  a  sense  of  public 
duty,  have  assumed  another  tone ;  but  we  see  that 
when,  in  the  freedom  of  private  friendship,  he  refers 
to  the  rancour  of  such  teachers  toward  himself,  his 
mind  was  not  that  of  the  despot,  or  of  the  fanatic. — It 
is  evident,  on  the  contrary,  that  much  personal  profi- 
cieny  in  the  virtues  of  self-command,  qualified  him  to 
admonish  others — "  to  be  of  one  accord,  of  one  mind  ; 
— to  do  nothing  through  strife,  or  vain-glory,  but  in 
lowliness  of  mind  to  esteem  others  better  than  them- 
selves." 

A  similar  affection  was  borne  by  the  apostle  to  the 
Thessalonian  Christians :  and  on  the  strength  of  that 
affection,  and  in  the  spirit  of  conscious  integrity,  he 


NOT    FANATICAL. 


349 


appeals  to  them  to  attest,  as  well  the  integrity  as  the 
mildness  of  his  ministerial  conduct  among  them     A 
foreknowledge,  probably,  of  the  vengeance  then  im 
pending  the  Jewish  people,  and  near  to  fall  upon  the 
rebe  lious  city,  seems  to  be  couched  in  the  terms  he 
employs  when  speaking  of  his  outrageous  countrymen 
Yet  It  cannot  be  said  that  the  passage  breathes  a  vinl 
dictive  spirit,  or  that  it  is  unbecoming  the  occasion  — 
*'  The  wrath  (that  specific  judgment,  long  ago  threat- 
ened) IS  come  upon  them   to  the   utmost,  who   both 
killed  the  Lord  Jesus,  as  they  did  their  own  prophets- 
and  have  persecuted  us,  and  please  not  God,  and  are 
contrary  to  all  men— forbidding  the  prof^ress  of  the 
Gospel  among  the  Gentiles."     Yet  the  painful  theme 
IS  mstantly  dropped,  and  the  happier  sentiments— the 
characteristic  sentiments  of  the  writer's  mind,  prevail 
It  is  not  (as  we  need  hardly  affirm)  a  simple  declara-' 
tion  of  the  Divine  displeasure  against  sin,  or  the  author- 
ized announcement    of   approaching   judgment,  that 
indicate  the  fanatic ;— for  this  office  may  in^fact  be  the 
highest  work  of  charity,  and  may  be  performed  under 
the  impulse  of  the  warmest  benevolence.     But  it  is 
when  the  wrath  of  heaven  is  a  man's  chosen  and  con- 
stant  theme,   and  when,  without  any  commission  to 
that  effect,  he  takes  upon  liini  to  hurl  the  bolts  of  the 
Most  High,  this  way  and  that— at  individuals  or  at 
communities  : — it  is  then  that  we  justly  impute  malev- 
olence, as  well  as  a  gloomy  extravagance  of  temper 
Now  when  we  find,  in  the  second  of  Paul's  epistles  to 
the  believers  of  Thessalonica,  one  of  the  most  appal- 
ling descriptions  of  the  future  wrath  that  the  Bible  any 
where  contains,  it  may  be  enough  to  compare  the  in- 
sulated passage  with  the  general  tenor  of  the  writer's 
letters  for  the  purpose  of  proving?  that  "the  perdition 
of  ungodly  men"  was  as  far  as  possible  from  beincrthe 
topic  toward  which  his  thoughts  continually  tended^and 
upon  which  (as   the  fanatic)  he  was  always  copious, 
eloquent,  and  at  ease.     But  we  are  bound  to  go  fur- 
ther ;  and  while  we  pause  (in  the  next  chapter)  at  the 

31 


350 


RELIGION    OF    THE    BIBLE 


prophetic  description  of  the  great  apostasy  that  seven 
centuries  afterwards,  should  reach  its  height,  who  does 
not  stand  back,  as  if  in  the  Divine  Presence,  and  con- 
fess that  it  is  not  Paul  but  the  Omniscient  God  who 
sneaks  ?— Every  phrase  of  terror— is  it  not  deep  as 
the  thunder  of  Heaven  ?  When  the  Supreme  thus 
distinctly  utters  his  voice  from  on  high,  let  him  that 
dares  come  forward  to  arraign  the  style  ? 

But  we  are  soon  brough  back  to  the  level  ot  human 
sentiments,  and  again  see  the  writer's  genuine  charac- 
ter in  the  casual  expression  of  his  mind,  as  occasions 
arise  "  If  any  man  obey  not  our  word  by  this  epis- 
tle note  that  man,  and  have  no  company  with  him, 
that  he  may  be  ashamed."  Here  is  apostolic  vigour- 
necessary  for  the  general  good  ;  nevertheless  the  cul- 
prit is  not  forgotten  ;  m.uch  less  consigned  to  venge- 
ance   "  Yet  count  him  not  as  an  enemy  ;  but  admon- 
ish him  as  a  brother."     The  caution  this,  of  a  paternal 

The  two  epistles  to  the  Christians  of  Corinth,  and 
the  one  to  those  of  Galatia,  are  marked  by  a  special- 
ity of  meaning  in  every  part,  and  also  by  a  frequent 
admixture  of   personal    feelings;    yet  ot    a  different 
kind  from  that  which  distinguishes  the  letters  last  men- 
tioned.    Capital    errors,    and    practical   abuses,  and 
church  disorders  in  the  one  instance,  and  a  grave  per- 
version of  doctrine  in  the  other,  brought  into  play  the 
sterner  elements  of  the  apostolic  character,  and  we  see, 
bv  this  means,  not  only  what  was  the  writer's  style  of 
reproof;  but  what  was  the  temper  called  up  in  him 
by  open  and  irritating  opposition  to  his  just  authority. 
Shall  it  not  be  now,  that  young  Saul— the   tyro  of 
Gamaliel,  is  to  reappear  on  the  stage,  while  Paul,  the 
disciple  of  Jesus,  stands  aside  1 

The  evidence  is  before  us.  Nothing  can  be  more 
free  and  natural  than  the  manner  of  these  composi- 
tions ;  nothing  more  lively  or  spirited.  If  we  want 
native  expressions  of  a  writer's  very  soul,  here  we 
have  them.    And  it  may  be  added  that  while  these 


NOT    FANATICAL. 


351 


three  epistles  abound  with  those  incidental  allusions  to 
facts  and  to  persons  which  place  their  genuineness  far 
beyond  doubt,  they  present  also,  in  a  remarkable  de- 
gree, those  fresh  touches  of  human  sentiment — abso- 
lutely inimitable,  which  alone  would  be  enough  to  as- 
sure all  who  liave  any  perception  of  truth  and  nature, 
that  we  are  conversing  with  real  and  living  objects ; 
not  with  spurious  images. 

The  first  topic  that  meets  us,  and  the  one  which 
manifestly  was  uppermost  in  the  writer's  mind,  is  that 
of  the  factions  that  had  sprung  up  among  the  Corinth- 
ian converts. — We  reach  then  here  the  very  point  of 
our  expc7^imcnlimi  crucis. — In  what  manner  does  the 
religious  Chief  deal  with  the  divisions  of  those  who 
(many  of  them)  were  calling  in  question  his  apostolic 
authority  ?     Now  not  to  insist  upon  that  general  rule 
of  policy  which  leads  a  chief  to   manage  factions  for 
his  own  advantage  ;  or  to  play  one  party  against  an- 
other, it  is  certain  that,  if  a  man's  own  spirit  be  fac- 
tious— if  he  harbour  a  secret  viruktice,  the  tenden- 
cies of  nature  will  draw  him  on,  eie  he  is  aware,  and 
even  against  his  sense  of  personal  discretion,  to  take  a 
side,  and  to  join  in  the  fray.     Whatever  tone  of  impar- 
tiality he  may  assume,  or  how  sincerely  soever  he  may 
wish  to  compose  the  feud,  he  will  be  sure  to  throw  in 
some  pungent  matter  that  shall  increase  the  ferment. 
But  Paul  on  this  occasion  neither  acts  the  wily  part  of 
the  adroit  dcmagot^ue,  nor  the  involuntary  part  of  the 
fanatic,     lie  grants  not  the  slightest  favour,  even  by 
any  indirect  inference,   to   his  personal  adherents  in 
the  Corinthian  church.     But  on  the  contrary,  without 
distinction,  condemns  and  contemns  the  sactarists  of 
those  four  denominations. — "  Every  one  of  you  saith,  I 
am  of  Paul,  and  I  of  Appollos,  and  I  of  Cephas,  and 
I  of  Christ ! — Is  then  Christ  divided  ?"     And  while 
"  one  saith  I  am  of  Paul,  and  another  I  am  of  Apollos, 
are  ye  not  carnal  ?"     Yes,  *'  babes  in  Christ" — persons 
who,  notwithstanding  all  their  boasted  gifts,  were  in 
fact  only  just  opening  their  eyes  (if  so  much)  upon  the 


352 


RELIGION    OF    THE    BIBLE 


world  of  truth.  And  who  is  Paul,  and  who  Apollos  T 
Will  you  say  Leaders  and  Princes  in  the  Church  ? 
nay,  nothing  more  than  subservient  agents  in  the  hand 
of  the  Lord.  "  Let  a  man  so  account  of  us  as  the 
ministers  (menials)  of  Christ,  and  stewards  only  of 
the  mysteries  of  God." 

There  is  neither  guile  nor  ambition  in  this  :  nor  can 
it  be  thought  to  savour  of  the  smothered  inflammatory 
«tyle  of  one  whose  factious  temper  is  always  getting 
the  better  of  his  sense  of  interest  and  his  motives  of 
policy.  The  blow  is  aimed  at  the  very  rootof  discord ; 
and  the  apostles  themselves  would  retreat  from  the 
place  of  honour  that  belonged  to  them,  if  no  other 
means  could  be  found  for  withdrawing  their  names 
from  the  banners  of  a  party.  ''  In  handling  this  sub- 
ject," says  Paul,  "  I  have  thus  used  my  own  name  and 
that  of  Apollos,  that  ye  might  learn  in  us  (though  in 
fact  we  be  rightful  chiefs  in  the  Church)  not  to  think  of 
any  above  what  is  enjoined ;  and  that  no  one  of  you 
be  inflated  with  zeal  for  one,  against  another." 

Yet  must  the  apostolic  authority  be  exerted  in  a 
manner  that  shall  inspire  the  disorderly  with  fear.  Yes, 
but  it  is  not  the  personal  antagonists  of  Paul  that  are 
selected  as  the  objects  of  the  supernatural  u  fliction  : — 
a  shameless  violator  of  the  common  j  rinciples  of 
morality  is  the  victim.  "  In  the  name  of  the  Lord 
Jesus,  let  the  incestuous  man  be  delivered  unto  Satan, 
for  the  destruction  of  the  flesh;  that  the  spirit  may 
be  saved  in  the  day  of  the  Lord." 

Whatever  incidental  evils  may  arise  from  that  sepa- 
ration and  seclusion  which  Christianity  involves,  they 
would  all,  or  nearly  all,  be  avoided,  if  the  apostolic 
rule  were  but  adhered  to,  such  as  we  find  it  lumin- 
ously laid  down  in  these  epistles  to  the  Corinthians, 
and  which,  if  reduced  into  an  abstract  form,  might 
be  thus  expressed  ; — That  the  rigours  of  church  dis- 
cipline should  be  made  to  bear  upon  the  society  itself, 
while  a  bland,  unscrupulous  and  unsanctimonious 
courtesy  of  behaviour  on  the  part  of  Christians  to- 


NOT  FANATICAL. 


353 


wards  others,  allows  the  leaven  of  the  Gospel  freely 
to  mingle  itself  with  the  general  mass  of  mankind. 
What  can  more  approve  itself  to  reason  than  a  princi- 
ple like  tiiis  I  What  can  be  more  unlike  the  supercili- 
ous monasticism  and  the  morose  sectarism  of  the 
fanatic  !  Indeed  sectarists  and  fanatics  of  all  classes, 
and  in  every  age,  have  just  reversed  the  apostolic 
canon. — That  is  to  sav,  they  have  enclosed  themselves 
and  their  sanctity  in  a  coop  of  pride,  so  as  to  deprive 
the  profane  world  of  the  benefit  it  might  have  got 
from  the  spectacle  of  virtue  so  exalted  ;  and  at  the 
same  time  have  expended  their  entire  fund  of  indul- 
gences— one  upon  another.  Nothing  has  been  so  hard 
as  to  get  admission  into  the  exquisite  circle  of  purity  ; 
— nothing  so  easy  as  to  live  there  when  once  admitted  ! 
It  has  been  like  climbing  a  painful  and  rugged  steep — 
to  find  at  the  summit,  a  luxurious  level. 

The  apostle  would  have  it  quite  otherwise.  Let  us 
stop  to  gaze  a  moment  upon  his  golden,  but  much 
neglected  maxim  of  church  polity.  Alas,  that  the 
roll  of  church  historv  illustrates  its  excellence  so  often 
by  contrarieties ! 

"I  have  here  been  enjoining  you  not  to  hold  any 
intercourse  with  persons  of  impure  manners  ;  (but  do 
not  misunderstand  me)  I  am  not  speaking  of  worldly 
men,  whether  covetous  or  rapacious,  or  idolatrous  :  for 
to  observe  any  such  rule  in  relation  to  them  would  be 
to  exclude  yourselves  altogether  from  the  social  econ- 
omy. On  the  contrary,  my  meaning  is,  that  you 
should  maintain  no  intimacy  with  one  who,  making  a 
profession  of  the  Gospel,  and  calling  himself  a  brother, 
is  licentious,  avaricious,  profane  ;  is  addicted  to  slan- 
der, or  is  intemperate,  or  rapacious.  For  what  affair 
of  mine  is  it  to  exercise  jurisdiction  over  those  who 
have  not  voluntarily  placed  themselves  within  the  circle 
of  church  censure  ?  Such  belong  to  the  Divine  Tri- 
bunal. But  judge  ye  those  of  your  own  society  : — and 
in  the  present  instance,  excommunicate  this  same 
flagitious  person." 

^  31* 


354 


RELIGION    OF    THE    BIBLE 


How  might  the  Church  by  this  time,  and  long  ago? 
have  spread  itself  through  the  world,  and  its  purity 
have  been  maintained,  if  regard  had  been  paid  to  the 
simple  rule  we  have  quoted  !  The  same  law  of  charity 
and  integrity,  expanded  and   applied  to  the  difficult 
question  of  social  communication  with   idolaters,    is 
brought  forward  again  in  the  8th  and  10th  chapters. — 
Shall  we  find  any  one  so  uncandid  or  so  perverted  in 
spirit  as  to  refuse  to  Paul  the  praise  of  high  good 
sense,  as  well  as  of  benignity  in  ttiis  instance  ?     The 
whole  of  the  practical  instructions  that  fill  the  middle 
chapters  of  the  first  epistle  to  the  Corinthian  church, 
are  eminently  characteristic  of  a  calm  and  temperate 
mind  ;    and   stand  in  full  opposition  to  the  crooked 
policy,  to  the  acrid  bigotry,  to  the  imbecile  conscien- 
tiousness, and  to  the  foul  hypocrisy  that  so  often  have 
deformed  the  profession  of  the  Gospel. 

Must  apostolic  rigour  pursue  its  victim  with  inexor- 
able wrath?  Far  from  it.  How  does  the  paternal 
spirit  of  Paul  rejoice  (in  the  second  epistle)  over  the 
repentant  culprit !  *'  Sufficient  to  such  a  man  is  this 
punishment ; — comfort  him,  therefore,  lest  he  be 
swallowed  up  with  over- much  sorrow. — Wherefore  I 
beseech  you  that  ye  would  confirm  your  love  toward 
him."  A  father  in  the  midst  of  his  children  does  not 
sooner  relent,  or  hasten  more  to  meet  a  penitent  son, 
than  does  this  apostle,  as  we  see  him  administering  the 
affiiirs  of  the  infant  church. 

A  delicate  part  remained  to  be  performed  in  refer- 
ence to  the  indispensable  duty  of  asserting  the  apostolic 
power,  impugned  as  it  had  been  by  a  factious  Jewish 
party  at  Corinth.  In  measure  the  argument  was  a. 
personal  controversy  ;  yet  did  it  involve  common 
principles.  The  occasion  was  precisely  one  of  that 
peculiar  and  difficult  kind  on  which  a  public  person 
feels  that  he  must  defend  himself,  as  an  individual, 
against  those  who,  in  assailing  his  single  reputation, 
mean  much  more  than  to  tread  a  fair  name  in  the 
dust:  in  such  a  case  the  timid,  or  the  falsely  modest. 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


355 


give  ground  ; — and  murky  pride  throws  up  public  in- 
terests, rather  than  descend  to  explanation  with  a 
despised  antagonist;  while  the  arrogant  or  despotic 
chief  comes  out  in  ire  to  repel  the  assault,  and  thinks 
only  how  best  to  save  his  personal  importance. 

The  course  taken  by  the  Apostle  is  quite  of  a  differ- 
ent sort.  The  mingled  strain  of  apology,  remon- 
strance, and  entreaty,  which  closes  the  epistle  to  the 
Corinthians,  brings  together,  in  admirable  combination, 
the  emotions  of  a  highly  sensitive,  generous,  humble, 
and  yet  noble  mind,  striving  alternately  with  itself,^ 
and  with  its  sense  of  public  duty.  The  abrupt  transi- 
tions, the  frequent  interrogations,  the  sudden  appeals, 
and  the  genial  warmth  of  the  whole,  impart  an  historic 
life  to  the  passage,  such  as  makes  the  reader  think 
that  he  sees  and  hears  the  speaker  actually  before  him. 
It  is  saying  little  to  affirm  that  a  composition  of  this 
order  stands  immensely  remote  from  the  suspicion  of 
spuriousness  : — if  this  be  not  reality,  the  objects  that 
now  press  upon  the  senses  are  not  real ;  and  the 
stamp  of  truth  which  marks  it,  involves  also  the  truth 
of  the  Christian  system.  But  this  is  not  all ; — for  if 
we  ought  in  any  case  to  rely  upon  the  universal  princi- 
ples of  human  nature,  as  they  are  gathered  from  history 
and  observation,  we  may  affirm  that  it  is  the  property 
of  gloomy  or  malignant  opinions,  or  of  notions  that 
are  preposterous  and  exaggerated,  to  impart  a  certain 
fixedness  or  monotony  to  the  mind  and  temper: — 
the  passions  become  set ; — the  style  of  expression, 
even  if  vehement  and  copious,  is  of  one  order  only ; 
— the  themes  of  discourse  aiT'  f<^'w,  ard'  ^the  drift  is 
ever  the  same.  Were  it  demSBM^to-^ssiorn  some 
single  characteristic  which  shoviSnnark  the  fanatic  in 
every  case,  the  same  exdusivencss  might  be  given  as 
the  infallible  sign.  On  the  contrary,  a  free  play  of 
the  faculties  and  emotions,  and  a  graceful  versatility 
of  mind,  is  the  distinction  of  those  who  live  in  the 
light,  and  inhale  the  pure  breezes  of  day.  An  expan- 
sive benevolence,  conjoined  with  the  mild  affections 


356 


RELIGION  OF   THE    BIBLE 


of  common  life,  not  only  renders  the  heart  sensitive 
on  all  sides,  but  imparts  an  interchangeable  mobility 
to  the  entire  circle  of  feelings,  so  that  transitions  from 
one  to  another  are  easy  and  rapid  ;— the  character,  in 
its  general  aspect,  is  pleasantly  diversified.  The  storms 
of  December  are  of  one  hue,  and  rush  across  the 
heavens  in  one  direction  ;  but  the  Summers  sky  has 
many  colours,  and  a  new  beauty  for  every  hour. 

Now  we  nJi^ht  assume  the  rapid  interchange  of 
subjects  and  sentiments,  and  the  abruptness  of  the 
style,  and  its  sparkling  vivacity,  in  the  passage  before 
us,  as  sufficient  proof  of  our  position,  that  the  mind 
of  Paul,  far  from  having  been  rigidly  fixed  in  one 
mood  by  Christianity,  had  actually  acquired,  under  its 
influence,  more  copiousness  of  feeling  than  his  early 
course  seemed  to  promise.  The  Gospel  had  made 
him— we  appeal  confidently  to  the  instance  now  before 
us— the  Gospel  had  made  Paul  a  man  of  mwc/i  feeling, 
and  of  7nanij  feelings.  But  fanaticism,  if  it  quickens 
some  single  sensibility,  renders  others  torpid,  and  after 
a  while  reduces  the  character  to  the  narrowest  range, 
or  brings  on  intellectual  atrophy. 

We  have  yet  to  advert,  for  a  moment,  to  the  epistle 
to  the  Christian  societies  of  Galatia;  but  do  not 
meddle  with  what  belongs  in  it  to  the  theologian,  and 
which  has  often  enough  been  treated  of:  what  is 
pertinent  to  our  immediate  purpose  may  soon  be  said. 
Written  about  the  middle  of  his  apostolic  course,  and 
at  the  season  of  ripened  manhood,  it  may  be  assumed 
to  exhibit  the  effect  of  Christianity  after  it  had  fully 
settled  its^ilfi  ipon  the  moral  and  mental  habits  of 
Paul,  and  fth.4r4^|#yrce  of  his  spirit  had  become  at 
all  abated.  W^lp  ia  it,  as  we  might  expect,  the 
highest  degree  of  v.J'Sur  c.ad  vivacity  ;  as  well  as  a 
ve^ry  decisive  tone,  and  even  an  authoritative  challenge 
of  submission  to  his  dictates  in  matters  of  religious 
truth.  There  is  nothing  feeble  in  this  epistle  ;  and  yet 
we  meet  indications  of  that  paternal  tenderness  which 
distinguishes  his  addresses  to  the  best-loved  churches : 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


357 


there  is  the  same  candour  too  in  acknowledging  what- 
ever was  laudable  among  these  societies  ;  and  more- 
over such  a  mixture  of  abstract  argument  with  per- 
sonal persuasion  as  indicates  the  writer's  desire  to  deal 
reasonably  with  whoever  would  listen  to  reason. 
Five-sixths  of  the  whole  composition  is  calm  explana- 
tion of  facts,  or  adduction  of  evidence.  But  this  is 
not  the  style  of  offended  pride,  when  it  rankles  in  the 
bosom  of  an  intemperate  and  irritated  dignitary. 

Yet  the  main  feature  of  the  epistle  to  the  Galatians 
is  the  breadth  of  the  practical  principles  it  supports, 
and  the  opposition  it  offers  to  the  bigotry,  superstition, 
and  spiritual  pride  of  the  Jewish  teachers.  If  Paul  be 
vehement,  it  is  always  in  behalf  of  common  sense  and 
liberality :  if  he  be  indignant,  it  is  when  he  mantles  to 
break  the  chain  of  spiritual  despotism  :  if  he  be  stern, 
it  is  to  uphold  consistency. — Even  Peter,  he  "  with- 
stood to  the  face,"  on  account  of  cul[)able  compliances 
with  Jewish  sanctimoniousness.  The  obsolete  system 
of  national  seclusion  he  discards,  by  affirming  that 
now,  within  the  Christian  Church,  all  extrinsic  distinc- 
tions are  merged.  *'  There  is  neither  Greek  nor  Jew,. 
there  is  neither  bond  nor  free,  there  is  neither  male 
nor  female  ; — for  all  are  one  in  Christ  Jesus."  That 
superstition  too,  which  waits  only  an  accidental  excite- 
ment to  kindle  into  virulent  fanaticism,  he  treats  with 
objurgation  and  contempt.  "  How  turn  ye  again  to 
the  weak  and  beggarly  elements,  whereto  ye  desire 
again  to  be  in  bondage  I — Ye  observe  days,  and 
months,  and  times,  and  years. — I  am  afraid  of  you, 
lest  I  have  bestowed  upon  you  labour  in  vain  ! " — 
"  Stand  fast  in  the  liberty  wherewith  Christ  hath 
made  us  free,  and  be  not  entangled  again  with  the 
yoke  of  bondage." — "  In  Christ  Jesus,  neither  circum- 
cision availeth  any  thing,  nor  uncircumcision ;  but 
faith,  which  worketh  by  love."  And  yet  this  liberty 
was  not  libertinism.  "  Use  not  your  liberty  for  an 
occasion  to  the  flesh;  but  bv  love  serve  one  another." 
— "  Walk  in  the  Spirit,  and  ye  shall  not  fulfil  the  lusta 
of  the  flesh." 


358 


RELIGION    OF    THE    BIBLE 


But  this  is  that  very  style  of  sound  sense  and  mode- 
ration, and  that  generalization  of  principles, 
WITHOUT  laxity,  which  so  grievously  oftends  the 
imbecile  pietist,  the  scrupulous  bigot,  and  the  virulent 
fanatic. — It  is  the  style  of  Paul ;  and  his  invariable 
use  of  it  carries  forward  our  present  argument  toward 
a  triumphant  issue. 

III.  The  four  epistles  to  individuals — especially  the 
three    that    are   clerical  or  official,  demand    to   be 

reviewed. 

The  question  in  hand  might,  with  very  little  hazard 
— perhaps  with  none,  be  made  to  rest  upon  the  soli- 
tary evidence  of  the  epistle  to  Philemon.  If  we  knew 
nothing  more  of  the  writer's  temper  than  what  breaks 
upon  us  through  the  tenderness  and  grace  of  this  short 
letter  (and  were  informed  also  that  the  same  person 
had  commenced  his  course  as  a  sanguinary  zealot) 
the  proof  would  be  complete,  that  the  system  under 
which  his  character  had  been  matured,  must  have 
been  of  the  most  benign  sort.  No  such  inconsistency 
has  ever  presented  itself  on  the  various  field  of  human 
nature  as  that  of  a  man  who  being  by  constitutional 
tendency  fierce  and  despotic,  after  yielding  himself 
through  a  lonj?  course  of  years  to  the  influence  of  a 
gloonw  creedrwas  yet,  at  the  close  of  life,  such  as 
this  IcUer  declares  "  Paul  the  aged "  to  have  been. 
It  is  certain  then,  that  Paul's  creed  was  not  gloomy ; 
but  on  the  contrary,  benign  ;  and  benign  in  the  most 
active  and  efficacious  sense.  Is  there  not  in  the 
epistle  to  Philemon  a  melody  of  love,  struck  from  the 
chords  of  a  nicely  attuned  heart  ?  Yet  it  was  the 
Gospel,  not  Nature  that  so  attuned  it. 

If  a  man's  character  is  to  be  known  more  certainly 
from  his  conversation  with  his  intimate  friends  or 
family,  than  from  his  public  harangues,  so,  and  for  the 
same  reasons,  a  private  correspondence  is  more  avail- 
able for  such  a  purpose  than  a  general  treatise.  And 
again,  if  there  be  any  one  species  of  personal  and 
private  correspondence   which,  more  than  another, 


NOT   fanatical. 


359 


f 
t 


lays  open  a  writer's  secret  principles,  it  is  that  carried 
on  betw^een  men  of  the  same  profession  or  calling,  on 
subjects  involving  the  credit  and  interests  of  that 
calling.     The  sentiments  of  public  persons  towards 
the  commonalty  over  which  they  exercise  a  control 
founded  altogether  on  opinion,  are  very  apt  to  assume 
an  aspect  either  of  hostility,  or  of  craftiness.     Then 
when  such  official  persons  interchange  their  private 
feelings,  and  especially  when  a  superior  of  the  order 
conveys  instructions  to  the  subaltern,  there  will  infal- 
libly  peep  out,  in  some  part,  the  sinister  sentiment — 
the  harboured  grudge,  the  sly  maxims  of  professional 
prudence,  or   the    lurking  acrimony   and   arrogance 
toward  the   populace — if  in  fact  any  such   oblique 
motive  or  principle  exist  in  the  mind  of  the  writer ; 
nor  will  any  discretion  avail  to  prevent  its  appearance. 
Now  having  before  us  a  writer's  various  composi- 
tions, if  we  go  over  them  all,  beginning  with  those  of 
a  general  or  abstract  kind,  and  advance  to  such  as  are 
more  specific,  and  at  last  open  the  packet  of  his  pri- 
vate and  professional  papers,  we  compass  him  on  all 
sides  : — we  beleaguer  his  very  soul — throw  open  the 
"  keep"  of  his  heart,  and  leave  him  no  chance  of  main- 
taining: his  concealment, — If  Paul  may  not  be  known 
from  his  two  letters  to  Timothy,  and  that  to  Titus,  no 
writer  can  at  all  be  judged  of  from  the  records  he  has 
left  of  himself.     The  genuineness  of  these  letters  is 
abundantly  established,  and  by  the  best  sort  of  proof. 
No  one  competent  to  estimate  literary  evidence  can 
even  pretend  to  doubt  of  it. — Moreover  they  were 
composed  (the  last  of  them  especially)  very  near  the 
close  of  the  writer's  apostolic  course,  and  when  his 
mind   had  admitted  all   the   influence   it   could  admit 
from  the. system  to  which  his  life  had  been  devoted. 
They  were  addressed  too,  to  subordinates  in  office ; 
yet  to  men  endeared  and  familiar  by  community  in 
labours  and  sufferings.     What  forbids  us  then— what 
rule  of  historic  evidence,  acknowledged  as  valid,  for- 
bids us  to  assume  these  same  letters  as  conclusive 


S60 


RELIGION   OF   THE   BIBLE 


Proof  in  a  question  concerning  the  quality  and  ten- 
dency of  Christianity  in  its  first  stage  ? 

Let  now  some  speculative  reasoner  come  up,  and 
say — "  The  view  that  is  presented  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment of  the  moral  condition  of  mankind,  and  of  the 
doom  of  the  impenitent,  and  of  the  agency  or  inter- 
ference of  evil  spirits,  cannot  but  have  a  pernicious  or 
malign  influence  over  the  human  mind." — In  rebutting 
anyluch  hypothetical  objection  we  should  instantly 
turn  from  theory  to  fact,  and  reply — If  the  supposition 
were  indeed  well  founded,  it  is  certain  that  the  learn- 
ed zealot  of  Tarsus  must  have  fully  received  upon  the 
sensitive  surface  of  his  native  character  any  such  fanat- 
ical excitement,  and  it  is  certain  too,  that  a  thirty  or 
forty  years  of  injurious  treatment  would  so  have  ag- 
gravated and  fixed  whatever  was  bad  in  his  natural 
temper,  that  his  last  letters  would  verily  have  reeked 
with  venom.  But  is  it  so  in  fact  ?  Let  these  letters 
say.  Must  we  not  acknowledge  that,  how  sad  and 
appalling  soever  may  be  the  truths  on  the  ground  of 
which  the  Gospel  proceeds,  or  on  which  it  builds  its 
superstructure  of  mercy — the  efficacious  motives  it 
brings  in  upon  the  human  mind  are  far  more  than 
enou^^h  to  correct  the  gloomy  influence  of  those  facts, 
and  do  actually  avail  to  produce  the  most  perfect  ex- 
amples of  gentleness,  meekness,  and  universal  good- 
will ; — aye,  and  to  engender  this  bland  philanthropy 
even  upon  an  intemperate  spirit ! 

Our  evidence  on  this  point  has  a  more  extended 
consequence  than  may  at  first  appear,  and  is  such  as 
to  justify  the  share  of  attention  now  claimed  for  it. 

These  valedictory  letters  (for  we  may  so  deem  them) 
in  the  first  place  prove,  what  before  we  have  alleged, 
that  the  mildness  of  the  apostle's  character,  such  as  it 
appears  in  the  greater  part  of  his  writings,  was  not  the 
consequence  of  a  prostration  of  his  native  vigour,  cr 
an  enfeebling  of  that  constitutional  vivacity  which 
brought  him  so  early  upon  the  stage  of  public  life. 
The  sort  of  advice  he  gives  to  Titus  in  reference  to 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


361 


the  factious  and  dissolute  Jews  of  Crete  (as  well  as 
similar  passages  in  the  epistles  to  Timothy)  makes  it 
certain  that  the  repellent  force  of  his  mind  remained 
undiminished. — Paul  had  not  become  so  easy — much 
less  imbecile,  as  to  wink  at  disorders,  or  tamely  to 
allow  either  the  apostolic  or  the  episcopal  authority  to 
be  sported  with. 

Yet  it  was  no  personal  homage  that  he  demanded, 
such  as  ambition  seeks  for. — "  I  was  before  a  blas- 
phemer, and  a  persecutor,  and  injurious" — an  eminent 
example  of  that  mercy  which  even  "  the  chief  of 
sinners"  henceforward  may  hope  to  receive.  The 
first  point  insisted  upon  in  these  pastoral  admonitions 
is,  that  prayer  and  praise  should  be  oflTered  in  the 
christian  assemblies  continually  on  behalf  "  of  all  men," 
especially  "for  kings,  and  all  that  are  in  authority. 
For  this  is  good  and  acceptable  in  the  sight  of  God 
our  Saviour,  wiio  will  have  all  men  to  be  saved,  and 
to  come  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth."  Is  it  the  reli- 
gious misanthrope  who  speaks  in  this  passage  ? — there 
is  certainly  heard  in  it  no  growl  of  the  Jewish  grudge 
against  the  bulk  of  mankind  ;  nor  does  it  convey  the 
writer's  covert  revenge  against  the  Roman  or  Jewish 
authorities,  that  had  every  where  loaded  him  with 
wrongs.  One  might,  for  a  moment,  fancy  that  Paul 
had  at  length  gained  access  to  the  imperial  saloon — 
was  basking  in  the  sunshine  of  the  court,  and  thence 
was  issuing  mandates  to  the  christian  world  in  the 
fulness  of  his  complacency.  Alas — he  w^as  still  the 
tenant  of  a  dungeon  !  Mark  it ; — this  command  to 
pray  for  kings  and  magistrates  was  sealed  by  a  hand 
then  actually  encumbered  with  the  chain  of  despotic 
power ! 

The  description  given  of  episcopal  qualifications  in 
these  letters  might  be  pertinently  adduced  as  proof  of 
the  modesty  and  soundness  of  the  writer's  conceptions 
of  spiritual  supremacy.  To  estimate  fairly  this  de- 
scription we  ought  to  place  in  comparison  with  it 
certain  magnific  passages  that  might  readily  be  quoted 

32 


362 


BELIGION    OF   TUB    BIBLE 


from  even  the  most  moderate  of  the  Fathers.     He 
who,  as  we  have  seen,  is  neither  murky  and  contuma- 
cious towards  secular  authorities,  nor  exorbitant  and 
preposterous  in  his  notions  of  ecclesiastical  prerogative, 
may  justly  claim  a  rare  praise,  inasmuch  as  the  one  of 
these  faults,  or  the  other  (if  not  both  together)  has 
ordinarily  belonged  to  men  who  have  stood  at  the 
head  of  religious  communities  in  times  of  persecution. 
*'  Alexander  the  coppersmith  did  me  much  evil : — 
the  Lord  reward  him  according  to  his  works ;" — an 
announcement,  this,  of  righteous  retribution,  and  in 
harmony  with  the  established  tone  of  divinely  com- 
missioned men  ;  and  necessary  to  the  maintenance  of 
apostolic  authority.      But  we  find  that  the  irksome 
subject  is  glanced  at  only,  and  that  an  instantaneous 
transition  is  made  to  one  which,  although  painful  also, 
serves  to  bring  into  view  that  rule  of  discrimination 
according  to  which  the  apostles  meted  out  their  cen- 
sures—**  making  a  difference,  and  of  some    having 
compassion."      "  At  my  first  answer"  (arraignment) 
gays  Paul,  "no  man  stood  with  me  ;  but  all  forsook 
nie : — Let  it  not  be  laid  to  their  charge  !'' 

A  criterion  of  a  man's  temper  might  with  great 
safety  be  drawn  from  the  simple,  though  not  obtrusive, 
cirOimstance  of  the  sort  of  transitions  he  is  accustomed 
to  make  in  unpremediated  converse  with  his  friends, 
or  in  his  confidential  correspondence.     It  is  in  these 
sudden  turns  and  replications  that  the  inner  texture 
of  the  soul  is  exposed  to  view.     Every  one  who  has 
been  a  meditative  listener  to  the  familiar  talk  of  man- 
kind, is  well  aware  of  the  significance  of  the  fact  we 
here  refer  to.     The  characteristic  of  the  mind,  and  of 
its  individual  affections,  is  not  so  well  furnished  by 
what  a  man  says  on  such  or  such  a  topic,  deliberately 
brought  before  him,  as  by  what  he  slides  into,  when 
the  immediate  subject  is  dismissed. — If  pride  rankle 
in  the  bosom — if  murky  revenge  be  the  master  passion 

if  envy  bear  rule  within  the  hidden  world  ;  or  if 

spiritual  arrogance  be  the  yeast  that  ferments  in  the 


NOT    FANATICAL. 


363 


soul,  we  shall  readily  detect  the  disguised  malady  as 
often  as  the  man  makes  his  transition,  or  turns  off  from 
the  question  or  discourse  that  has  engaged  him. 

And  how,  on  the  other  hand,  does  the  benignity — 
the  charitable  hope — the  kind  interpretation  of  what^ 
is  ambiguous,  break  out  from  the  casual  converse  of 
a  tranquil  and  happy  spirit !    Let  the  sky  be  never  so 
much  darkened,  we  feel  (when  in  such  company)  that 
a  summer's  sun  is  somewhere  above  the  horizon  ;  and 
ere  long  its  power  and  brightness  actually  bursts  out, 
even  from  the  midst  of  gloom  and  thunder. — Now  by 
this  very  rule,  and  it  is  perhaps  one  of  the  most  con- 
stant and  certain  of  any  that  may  be  advanced  as  a 
clew  to  the  secrets  of  the  human  heart,  we  are  content 
that  the  writer  of  the  Pauline  epistles  should  be  judg- 
ed, and  the  quality  of  his  deepest  motives,  and  the 
colour  of  his  habitual  sentiments  be  decisively  spoken 
of.     We   say  then  that  the  writings  of  Paul,  abrupt 
and  elliptical  as  his  method  often  seems,  are  in  a  spe- 
cial manner  distinguished  by  a  frequent  beaming  forth 
of  hope   and  glory  when  least  one  expects  it. — He 
writes  hke  a  man  who  descends  to  his  subject  from  a 
higher  sphere: — as  for  example,  when,  after  laying 
down  the  rule  of  behaviour  proper  to  a  servile  condi- 
tion, and  insisting  upon  submissiveness  and  fidelity,  he 
returns,  as  in  a  moment,  to  the  very  summit  of  joy. 
"  For  the  grace  of  God  that  bringeth  salvation  hath 
appeared  to  all  men,  teaching  us,"  not  only  the  virtues 
of  common  life,  but  that  we  should  "  look  for  that 
blessed  hope,  and  the  glorious  appearing  of  the  great 
God,  our  Saviour,  Jesus  Christ."     Almost  immediately 
we  meet  with  a  sudden  transition  of  another  sort,  in- 
dicative of  the   permanent  humility  of  the   writer's 
jnind,  as  well  as  of  its  broad  benignity  and  good- will. 
"  Put  them  in  mind  to  be  subject  to  principalities,  to 
speak  evil  of  no  man,  to  be  no  brawlers  ;  but  gentle, 
shewing  all  meekness  to  all  men.— For  we  ourselves 
also  were  sometimes  foolish,  disobedient,  deceived, 
serving  divers  lusts  and  pleasures,  living  in  malice  and 


364 


RELIGION   OF    THE    BIBLE 


envy,  hateful,  and  hating  one  another.  But  after  that 
the  kindness  and  love  of  God  our  Saviour  toward 
man  appeared." — Is  not  this  the  natural  turn  of  a 
mind  at  once  humble,  pious,  and  benevolent  ? 

"  This  thou  knowest  (or,  knowest  thou  this  ?)  that  all 
they  which  are  in  Asia  be  turned  away  from  me,  of 
whom  are  Phygellus  and  Hermogenes."  But  does  re- 
sentment lodge  in  the  writer's  mind ;  or  is  the  subject 
pursued  and  morosely  grasped  ?  What  meet  we  in 
the  very  next  verse  ? — *'  The  Lord  give  mercy  unto 
the  house  of  Onesiphorus ;  for  he  oft  refreshed  me, 
and  was  not  ashamed  of  my  chain.  But  when  he  was 
in  Rome  he  sought  me  out  very  diligently,  and  found 
me.  The  Lord  grant  unto  him  that  he  may  find  mer- 
cy of  the  Lord  in  that  day  ;  and  in  how  many  things 
he  ministered  unto  me  at  Ephesus,  thou  knowxst  very 
well." — Some  universal  axiom  of  a  happy  aspect  is 
the  ordinary  corollary  of  this  writer's  incidental  ad- 
vices : — as  thus — "  Refuse  profane  and  old  wives' 
fables  ;  and  exercise  thyself  rather  unto  godliness ;  for 
bodily  exercise  profiteth  little ;  but  godliness  is  profitable 
unto  all  things,  having  promise  of  the  life  that  now  is, 

and  of  that  which  is  to  come We  trust  in  the 

living  God,  who  is  the  Saviour  of  all  men,  spe- 
cially of  those  that  believe."  "  From  men  of  corrupt 
minds,  destitute  of  the  truth,  withdraw  thyself ;  but 
godliness  with  contentment  is  great  gain  ;  for 
we  brought  nothing  into  this  world,  and  it  is  certain 
we  can  carry  nothing  out ;  having  therefore  food  and 
raiment,  let  us  be  therewith  content."  In  several 
instances  the  most  sublime  of  all  the  doxologies  which 
the  Scriptures  contain  are  those  thrown  by  Paul  into 
the  midst  of  his  discussion  of  lower  subjects.  Per- 
haps, if  we  were  to  select  the  passages  in  his  epistles 
from  which,  more  signally  than  from  any  others,  the 
brightness  of  the  upper  world  shines  out,  they  would 
be  those  that  most  abruptly  turn  the  current  of  his  dis- 
course. Yet  what  is  this,  if  w^e  are  to  lay  any  stress 
upon  the  constant  law  s  of  the  human  mind,  but  proof 


NOT    FANATICAL. 


365 


that  the  happiest,  the  most  expansive,  and  the  most 
elevated  sentiments  constituted  the  very  substance,  or 
inner  body,  of  the  writer's  character,  so  that  every 
rapid  transition  he  makes,  and  every  sudden  move- 
ment is  a  revulsion  from  the  sombre  to  the  bright ; — or 
from  wrath  to  mercy; — or  from  duties  to  recom- 
pences  ; — in  one  word,  from  earth  to  heaven  ! 

Christianity  then,  such  as  we  find  it  in  the  Scrip- 
tures, is  benign — it  is  from  Heaven ;  and  even  had  it 
utterly  vanished  or  ceased  to  affect  mankind  in  the 
game  age  that  saw  it  appear,  the  documentary  proof  of 
its  divine  origin  would  have  remained  not  the  less  com- 
plete and  irresistible.  In  that  case — convinced  as  we 
must  have  been  that  the  True  Light  had  once,  though 
but  for  a  moment,  glanced  upon  the  earth,  w^e  should 
have  looked  wistfully  upw^ard  in  hope  that  the  great 
revolutions  of  the  heavens  would  at  length  bring  round 
a  second  dawn,  and  a  lasting  day. 

But  it  is  far  otherwise ;  and  in  coming  to  the  close 
of  a  course  that  has  presented  the  perversions,  not  the 
excellences  of  Christianity,  we  should  seek  relief  from 
the  impression  made  by  a  long  continued  contempla- 
tion of  a  single  order  of  objects — and  those  the  most 
dire. — The  Gospel  has  had  multitudes  of  genuine 
adherents — Christ  a  host  of  followers,  in  the  worst 
times ;  or  if  the  first  three  centuries,  or  the  last  three 
of  Christian  history,  are  looked  to,  it  would  indicate 
affectation,  or  a  melancholy  and  malignant  temper,  to 
estimate  at  a  low  rate  the  extent  of  the  true  Church. 

Yet  the  terrible  fact  which,  though  predicted  by 
the  apostles,  would  have  astounded  themselves  had  it 
stood  before  them  in  distinct  perspective,  remains  to 
sadden  our  meditations — That  an  apostasy,  dating  its 
commencements  from  a  very  early  age,  spread  over 
the  whole  area  of  Christendom,  affecting  every  article 
of  belief,  and  every  rule  of  duty ;  and  that  it  held 
itself  entire  through  much  more  than  a  thousand 
years. 

But  what  is  our  own  position  ?    what  stage  on  the 


366 


RELIGION    OF    THE    BIBLE 


highway  of  truth  has  the  Protestant  community 
reached  ?  are  the  reformed  churches  calmly  looking 
back,  as  from  an  elevation,  and  under  the  beams  of 
day,  upon  a  dark  landscape,  far  remote,  and  hardly 
distinguishable  ?  or  should  it  not  rather  be  confessed 
that  our  reformations  though  real  and  immensely 
important,  are  initiative  only  ?  This  is  certain  that  the 
evolutions  of  the  Divine  Providence  exhibit  seldom  or 
never  to  the  eye  of  man  any  hurried  transition ;  but 
that  it  renovates  and  restores  by  successive  impulses, 
and  these  at  distant  intervals.  'We  only  follow  then 
the  established  order  of  things  when  we  hope  that 
there  is  yet  in  reserve  for  the  world  the  boon  of  an 
unsullied  Christianity. 

The  sinister  sense  in  which  men  of  a  certain  party 
would  snatch  at  such  a  supposition,  and  affirm  that 
even  the  prime  articles  of  truth  have  not  yet  been 
disengaged  from  the  general  apostasy,  except  by  the 
sceptic  few,  is  peremptorily  excluded  by  the  fact  of 
the  general  and  popular  diffusion,  and  devout  perusal 
of  the  Scriptures.  For  if,  even  where  universally 
read  and  piously  studied,  the  Inspired  Books  fail  to 
convey  to  the  majority  their  principal  meaning,  it  is 
certain  that  they  are  better  discarded  than  any  longer 
reverenced  as  Instruments  of  religious  Instruction.  If 
the  Church — take  what  age  we  please — has  not  pos- 
sessed itself  of  the  vital  elements  of  sacred  knowledge 
while  unrestrainedly  reading,  and  while  diligently 
studying  the  Scriptures,  then  the  labours  of  those  who 
would  tell  us  so,  are  idle ;  for  it  must  be  confessed 
that  the  pursuit  of  truth  at  all  on  the  field  of  Revela- 
tion, is  a  desperate  enterprise. 

Yet  this  granted — and  it  is  unquestionable,  an  atten- 
tive and  impartial  survey  of  the  religious  history  of 
mankind  leads  to  the  conclusion  (and  it  is  on  the  one 
hand  a  consolatory,  as  well  as  on  the  other  an  afflictive 
conclusion)  that  the  possession  of  the  vital  elements  of 
religion  may  consist  with  such  perversions,  both  in 
theory  and  sentiment,  as  deprive  Christianity  of  its 


NOT   FANATICAL. 


367 


visible  beauty,  and  forbid  its  propagation.  Most  of 
the  examples  adduced  in  the  preceding  sections  come 
under  the  range  of  this  principle ;  and  in  presenting 
always  the  illustrious  and  the  mitigated  instances 
rather  than  the  exaggerated  or  the  base,  the  author 
has  steadily  held  to  his  purpose  of  bringing  home  to 
every  mind  the  conviction  that  no  degree  of  piety 
should  be  allowed  to  protect  the  system  under  which 
it  appears  from  the  severest  scrutiny,  or  from  grave 
suspicions. 

If  it  be  asked  on  what  ground  any  such  suspicion 
can  fairly  rest  at  a  time  when  the  characteristics  of 
freedom,  vigour,  and  activity  broadly  attach  to  the 
exterior  of  religious  profession,  it  may  at  once  be 
replied  that  there  must  be  room  for  serious  and  un- 
sparing inquiries,  so  long  as  the  actual  products  bear 
a  very  slender  proportion  to  the  means  of  general 
instruction — so  long  as  Christianity  fails  to  affect  the 
more  energetic  portion  of  the  community — so  long  as 
zealous  endeavours  to  propagate  the  faith  abroad, 
though  not  altogether  unblessed,  are  followed,  after  a 
long  trial,  with  scanty  successes  ; — but  especially  have 
we  cause  to  suspect  that  some  fatal  and  occult  mis- 
understanding of  the  Gospel  exists,  while  the  ecclesi- 
astical condition  of  the  religious  commonweahh  is  in 
all  senses  preposterous. 

Let  it  be  assumed  that  each  separate  article  of  our 
creed  is  well  warranted  by  Scripture ;  it  may  not- 
withstanding be  true  that  indefinite  misconceptions, 
affecting  the  Divine  character  and  government,  or 
that  certain  modes  of  feeling  generated  in  evil  days, 
and  still  uncorrected,  exist,  and  operate  to  benumb 
the  impulsive  and  expansive  energies  of  the  Gospel. 
Our  interpretation  of  Christianity  may  be  good,  and 
may  be  pure  enough  for  private  use  : — it  may  be  good 
in  the  closet,  good  as  the  source  of  the  motives  of 
common  life ;  and  good  as  the  ground  of  hope  in 
death,  and  yet  may  be  altogether  unfit  for  conquest 
and  triumph.     That  it  is  so  unfit,  should  be  assumed 


368       RELIGION   OF   THE   BIBLE   NOT   FANATICAL. 

as  the  only  pious  and  becoming  explication  we  can 
give  of  the  almost  universal  ignorance  and  irreligion 
of  mankind. 

With  no  very  easy  sense  of  the  greatness,  the  diffi- 
culty, and  the  peril  of  the  task  to  which  he  puts  his 
trembling  and  perhaps  presumptuous  hand,  yet  from 
the  impulse  of  a  feeling  not  to  be  repressed,  and  with 
a  resolution  not  to  be  daunted,  the  Author — imploring 
aid  from  on  High,  will  ask  yet  again  the  attention  and 
the  concurrence  of  those  who,  like  himself— invincibly 
persuaded  of  the  truth  of  Christianity,  can  taste  no 
personal  enjoyments,  can  admit  no  rest',  while  it  falters 
on  its  course  through  the  world. 


THE    END. 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSiTY 

0025985523 


mm 


( 


ifr.i 


m/C 


^nM  iniOBi 


